


And The Tally Marks Drop

by This_is_not_for_you



Category: Supernatural, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Canon Divergence, Character Death, Crossover, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Kind of non con? As in small small mentions of it, M/M, Major Character Injury, Please read these before reading thank you, Supernatural Elements, amalgamation of everything fucked up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_not_for_you/pseuds/This_is_not_for_you
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean go on another hunt, by directions of an unknown source. They don't know the name of this strange town. Neither of them expected to find what they did. A town bathed in purple, and seemingly one with too many weird occurrences</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fuck It

**Author's Note:**

> Disregard these bull first chapters i wrote them in 2014, its now 17 so yeah ^_^

Chapter One

Darkness. Just plain and stupid darkness. That's all there was. No diner's to pull over to, no bars, no nothing. Well, excluding the scarce dull orange street lamps that passed overhead like miniature floating suns. Each one came and as the impala sped on, passed him and Sam, not like there where any speed signs around either. Dean had thought that there must have been at least one diner they would pass, or late-night store, one other human being other than him and his brother. Felling as though it was just the two of them, lost in this desert with no other human beings, was almost suffocating, and he could feel his heart begin to beat louder and louder.   
His small fear didn't show on his face, constantly set in stone, and that slight pout he was aware of. Taking a moment to look away from the seemingly never-ending cement road ahead, he glanced down at his watch. Son of a bitch. Four hours. He looked back to the road, eyes scrunching slightly and brows contorting his face into a grimace. They hadn't passed anything in four hours, and he meant anything other than dead animals. Seriously, they where everywhere. He couldn't blame them though, I mean it was a desert. But why would a cat be in a desert? Why would any animal come out here, how in hell would they even make it out here?

Dean continued asking himself these questions for the next fifteen minutes, assuring himself he would get answers once they arrived at the next town, if they ever arrived at the next town. If there even was a town. Or were they going to have to loop back again from this road? God he hoped not. Whilst he was at it, asking himself all these questions, a small part of him wondered too whether the DFS sale would ever end, and if he would ever get back to go and eat more burgers. He stopped himself there and drove on. Keeping a steady speed of around 40kph.

Dean glanced over to Sam, his gaze shifting from a grimace to his set-in-stone face again. The whole reason they had gone down this stupid road was because apparently there was a lot of strange activity reported by the news and through different sources they had wound up with directions of "Once you hit this road, continue along it, it is a straight road and is paved in black. One road. One way". Slightly creepy, Dean would admit, but much of the stuff they dealt with these days was anything but slightly creepy. And the douche-bag hadn't even given them a name of the town, just, "you'll know when you find it". Like he said, creepy.

He heard a small scratching of fabric against fabric and looked back over to his brother, his insanely tall brother who was finding it difficult to sleep in the impala. Sam was too tall, Dean was the oldest, he should be taller than his little brother, it made hugs awkward a lot. Although not as awkward as Sam and Cas hugging, though they were all friends, Dean already knew before Cas had said anything,that he favoured him. Cas had also appeared naked covered in bees on his car once, and he didn't think he would ever get another experience of that. Not that he wanted to, just not in those...circumstances. And maybe if it didn't involve possibly ruining his baby. God, was he seriously saying he would risk ruining his car for-

Dean stopped himself there before he got too far ahead of himself, not wanting to cause any commotion or anything and wanting to at least be able to look Cas in the eye's the next time he saw him. Cas always had such pretty blue eyes, dependant on the light they could look like the brightest ocean encased in a border of dark seaweed. Or sometimes they could resemble a galaxy, flakes or bright blue, as though there were billions of stars and galaxies inside his head, each owing their own constellation of stars and a kaleidoscope of words and depths and layers. Much in comparison to his own green eyes, rather normal, but he had been told that is what attracted most people to him, that and his male model face.

A Dean sat comfortably with his legs splayed out and one arm on the wheel and the other leaning on the window. He was glad in some circumstances, such as this, that he didn't have such long legs. It favoured him, in many ways more than one, yet he still wished he could be just a little bit taller. He snapped himself out of his daydream of memories and height differences and he looked up again. The. Same. Dam. Road. Sighing deeper and giving a cough of annoyance, his eyes shifted from the oh-so-long road back to his silver wrist watch, it had been 40 minutes. He could have sworn it was 15 five minutes ago. Did time seriously go that quickly? He felt his heart begin to beat louder again and he cranked his neck and sighed deeply.

Tempted to shove Sam awake to share his confusion about the whole situation. But, as he took a look over to the sleeping face of his brother, Sam drooling slightly and lying facing towards him, he thought differently of it. Sam's face was all smushed against the seat and he had curled himself on the seat as much as his Chewbacca body allowed. Most of him lying off the seat anyway. Sam's light brown hair had grown overtime, and at one point he was literally like a suicidal chewbacca, but he did need a haircut. Dean decided he had to petsuade Sam to get a haircut, or else he would cut it himself. He didn't want to be seen a walking around with a 6"4 Chewbacca with messy hair. He shook his head slightly to clear his mind. Didn't work. Instead he set his gaze back to the road. Green eyes scanning around for anything other that shrivelled up plants and the occasional dead animal, and as the lamps passed over head, for a second his eyes seemed to glow so brightly it almost looked like another small universe, nearly as bright as a certain angels eyes. And yet with all the calm, he felt an eeriness creep over him. It clawed into his back and planted itself in his stomach, curdling inside him and twist his insides with darkness. His mind felt so very fuzzy for a few seconds, feeling a type of darkness wash over him and quickly dissipate. He shook his head roughly, feeling his mind almost black out on him. His heart was pounding and he felt the impala shake roughly and come to a halt. Please tell me they had not run out of gas.

Sam shot up quickly from his lying position in the impala. He immediately looked to the drivers side, Dean wasn't there. And just as he was about to grab his gun and go looking for his not-so-missing brother, a face appeared beside his in the window.

"Rise and shine, beautiful. Have a nice beauty sleep?". Sam stretched his arms above his head, not like they would stretch far inside the vehicle. Pulling on his beaten up brown coat, he opened the door and stood beside Dean. He could feel the coldness begin to seep into his clothing as he was outside of the warmth of the impala. Uneasiness washed over him and gripped his heart and squeezed. Shaking it off, Sam walked up to Dean leaning over the cars engine. They where parked just close enough to a street lamp to have a light source.

"So, what's up this time? Car break down?", he said whilst stretching his arms and legs.

"Heh, yeah. Looks like we've run out of gas, in a desert, with nobody in hell around to help, Sam".

Dean was frustrated, Sam could tell. Or was that anxiety? Sam knew of Dean's stone face and get the job done attitude, but in reality sometimes he just lost his cool. He could understand why in this situation.  
Sam got back into the car, in the drivers side and began turning the keys in the ignition. The engine grumbled to life and the car seemed to have been working perfectly normal. He raised his eye brows at his brother from his seat. Dean furrowed his brows and shook his head, almost not believing it.

"Sam, no. That. No. I have been working on my baby for, what, and hour? And she just works for you? I'm telling you, Sammy, something's not right. There was no gas. Something's definitely not right about this".

Sam looked down at the Gas tank reader, it was at full capacity. Again, he raised his eyebrows at his brother. "Bet you just haven't slept enough, Dean, I mean how long have you been driving?".

Dean didn't say anything and ushered Sam out of the drivers seat, waiting for him to get back in the car and as each of them closed the doors, they felt that uneasy calm again. Dean put the car in gear and began driving again.

They drove on for about 10 minutes. Along that black pavement road, surrounded by dust and desert. And...dead...animals? Sam just sat there in stunned silence of what he was processing. Then, finally, Dean said something.

"Four hours".

"What?".

"Somewhere around four or five hours, we have been driving along this same road for four or five hours".

Sam sat there. How could they drive along one road for four hours straight? No passing anyone and dead animals only to keep company.

Then the car's radio began flickering, static and...words? Dean reached over and tried turning it off, face scrunched into an angry scowl and throwing his hand up when it wouldn't turn off.

"Dean, is that someone talking? On the radio, it sounds like words".

"You know Sammy I'm beginning to think your the one that needs more sleep".

Sam disregarded his words and listened closer, it definitely was someone talking. He looked over to dean as the words began to become clearer and more understandable. Dean's eyes widened and his mouth pushed into a bigger pout that normal. The radio was loud enough to hear, and it was the only sounds each of them heard in the car-

"Listeners, it seems we have some new arrivals, here in NightVale. Maybe more scientists, come to search and wonder about our mysterious little town? Or maybe some people from where dearest perfectly imperfect Carlos is from? Either way, NightVale, can I just say that we should greet them each with open arms. For there is one man with bright green eyes, and, pardon my words, an incredibly good looking face, and the other so very tall and so messy hair. Listeners, lets make them feel comfortable, them, and may I say their pretty nice car. Neat". With that the radio cut out, and static resumed again.

Dean and Sam sat there. Stunned. Creeped out. That mans voice was incredibly smooth, deep and almost as if he was reading a story. How the hell did he see them. Sam's head whipped around to look for cameras or anything. Nothing. Suddenly, the voice came back on the radio again, Dean and Sam stared at it-

"Listeners, our friends will be here soon. Oh dear, watch out".

The car jostled and by the time Dean looked up the car was off the road and in the desert. Dean managed to get the car back in control. His face was still scrunched up angrily and his eyes where wide. His body was tense. The car stopped and the two of them stared ahead. Something was walking towards them. Tall. Much taller than Sam. The lights from the headlight illuminated its tall figure. A million eyes looked back at them. Stared and fidgeted. Each was black, with no eye lid and seemingly placed randomly on the figures tall, tall body. Sam heard a small 'son of a bitch' beside himself but he didn't look over at Dean. Then they where both out of the car, guns drawn and standing completely still by the Impala. Nothing moved. Nothing jumped out. But then the eyes began blinking. And the full extent of the mass came into view. Wings, six of them, and each one had accompanied eye blinking on them. Two wings covered where its face was. Its body was fully black. And each of them just stared. Sam felt his head begin to hurt. It was like a bad ice-cream head ache. Noises. He could hear the radio man's voice in his head. So loud. Too Loud. He couldn't even see if Dean was alright. His eyes where closed tight and his head was pounding. The man spoke again before he passed out from the pain and noise.

"Hello, new-comers. And welcome, to NightVale".


	2. Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So...Nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol Keep reading for more fucked up shit on the way ;)

Upon the streaks of light that slithered their way through the air, small dust particles floating and dancing throughout the space as it was dispersed upon the light with the sudden movement of limbs. The bright morning sun shone through the window, highlighting the white sheets which a body still lay upon. Which two bodies lay upon. One was rather dark skinned, darkened even more by the intense heat that came in the day. With such luscious and perfectly imperfect hair, great spirals and curls of gorgeous locks, that where messily splayed across their face and pillows.

Another lay beside this dark-skinned man. One with such pretty and straight blond hair upon their head. And although they lived in the heat of the desert, his skin appeared quite a bright and radiant colour. And upon each arm was a swirling and colonising of bright and brilliant purple tattoos, which seemed to almost glow and shimmer slightly. Each one moved contently over the man's arms and body, each one roaming freely and softly over the skin. They reached up his neck and the small purple eye up on his forehead was closed, as the man still lay quietly in dreams. For in the light of day these two men lay, both within each others grasp and both within a gorgeous end and beginning of each light.

And as the man named Carlos, with that perfect hair, moved so suddenly away from the others warmth, Cecil, the man with those wondrous tattoos, also moved slightly. Carlos swung his legs over the side of the bed frame. Their bed was white, as where the sheets and the paint used on the wood. They each loved the morning of such bright calmness throughout the rise of the sun. And as the man, Carlos, got up from his and Cecil's bed, he walked over to a tall standing wardrobe in the corner. The man with the gorgeous hair pulled on his checked t-shirt, it being slightly crumpled and creased-but not easily seen as for the pattern covering its flaws, and buttoning each button with delicate nature.

Cecil moved quite suddenly from the bed, and came up behind Carlos. Grabbing on to him and hugging the man so tight he feel his heart might burst. For such a slim man, Cecil did have some strength. Maybe it was to do with most NightVale citizens? He'd have to read into that later. But right now he did have to get dressed. He wasn't wearing any trousers, for starters. And Cecil had walked off to the bathroom. He saw the back of Cecil's head disappear behind the oak door of the bathroom, hearing the tap turn on and a low humming coming from within. A smile creased at his face and he pulled on a pair of battered jeans-worn at the knees and feet, yet still the most comfortable pair he owned. As for his most trusty lab-coat, yes, ah, such a nice lab-coat it was. So soft. And as Cecil had described it at one point, "neat". He pulled it on, fixing the collar and the sleeves so they fit most comfortably over his long-sleeved t-shirt, and then decided it was going to be warm again today, and rolled up each sleeve until his elbow, marking sure he looked nice and 'sciency'. He could only guess, though.

As was expected, Cecil took a while in the bathroom. He always did. He was aware of it, although Carlos-ah, perfectly imperfect Carlos- never actually pointed it out. He sometimes didn't even go in the bathroom some mornings, or he would just get dressed first and wait on Cecil to finish, and then go in. Oh how he loved Carlos. From his perfect jaw-line, so strong and defined, to his gorgeous, dark skin. How imperfect it was, but oh how perfect he thought wonderful Carlos to be. How wonderful and perfect and how oh-

Cecil had to stop himself. His tattoos had begun to glow more than ever, even in the dimmed light of the bathroom, and his pale cheeks had begun to flush pink. In fact his whole face had. Cecil's usually quite placid and calm expression had been replaced by a subconscious smile reaching to his rosy cheeks. His face was so red, oh dear. He turned on the tap again and literally stuck his face in the cold water gushing out from the faucet. After a moment he pulled his head back. His face and a few strands of hair had been drenched in the adventure to Niagara falls. Rubbing his eyes and drying his face with a towel, he again looked in the mirror. Feeling just a little, little tiny winy bit refreshed after that.

As he walked out of the bathroom, Carlos noticed that Cecil's face was particularly red. Although it could've been passed off as washing his face, he still wondered. And considering that whenever Cecil did look up at Carlos, his face spread into that dorky smile again and Cecil came over and hugged onto him once again. Not as hard as before, but more just revelling in the fact that he could hug him. Cecil hugged him a lot, actually. And Carlos was pretty sure he had picked up how the tattoos would act around different stimuli.

Like, whenever Cecil would be talking on the air, his tattoos would just kind of float across his skin, not really shining or shimmering that much. And as for when he was especially bored, Carlos only guessed that the tattoos just looked like tattoos, as there was never a moment that Cecil had been bored around him.

And as for when he got upset, his tattoos would turn a shade darker and in some places change their shape and colour slightly. As for when Cecil was happy and/or excited, those marvellous tattoos of his would glow and shimmer, and would dance about his body almost joyously. Cecil himself was something to marvel at, and he made one too many notes about his boyfriend in his science books.

Carlos still stood there, in front of the window, trying in vain to tame his hair. He couldn't brush it, it would just go all frizzy and if he tried patting it down, well, then it just went all fluffy again with curls. Goodness, he really needed a hair cut. Maybe Telly the barber would be a good person to do it? After all, in the heat, it did get hard to keep himself cool with this mop of hair on his head. Finally he gave up. Strapped on his watch and then got some of his science things from a cupboard on the wall. Although time doesn't actually work in NightVale. Clocks weren't real either, but it gave Carlos a small comfort of the outside world when he wore it, remembering something of the outside world that he held dear. He remembered getting given it as a present one year for a birthday, least to say parties in NightVale where rather strange, and not wished to be had again after the last one.

He still rented out a storage facility he was using as a lab beside Big Rico's Pizza. And he intended to go their early to get some tests and science things done. Many science things where to happen that day. Many.

And yet, as he turned to Cecil, he realised something.

He realised Cecil was still in his boxers, standing beside the window and looking out over NightVale. His striped boxers peering out from underneath and over-sized t-shirt. Carlos believed it was his t-shirt. Although he didn't mind, he liked how Cecil smelled, because Cecil smelt calm, and of a faint and distant memory, of tea and coffee and sunsets and cinnamon. And Carlos did love that smell. Although Cecil loved that t-shirt. It was grey, totally not Cecil's colour, and it had an orange collar and was far too big for Cecil. In reality it was far too big for Carlos. It was so big that both of them could fit inside it together easily. And for some reason Cecil always wore it.

Carlos stood there daydreaming, and then he actually listened to what Cecil was saying. His voice was slightly deeper and croaky, and he was talking somewhat fast and angrily about something.

The first word that Carlos could register in the mutterings of his boyfriend was 'mountains'.

Dammit.

Cecil really despised mountains. Literally, he had brought it up once that there were lots and lots of mountains around the world, and Cecil had become agitated and insisted that mountains weren't real. In any circumstance. And Carlos had left it at that.

At last, Cecil finally put some trousers on. And put on his regular attire of a black button up waist coat, with a white long sleeved t-shirt and the sleeves rolled up. Today, Cecil was going for a sort of messy hairstyle. Well. That he thought looked messy. He didn't have any mirrors. Dear imperfect heavens he would rather get sent to the void than have mirrors in his home, or anywhere for that matter. And as he fixed his tie- wait a second, looking down upon himself he wondered,-did he wear ties? Had he ever worn one? Come to think of it, he never remembered buying one. But maybe it was the secret police then, giving him ties? Oh well. Most things are the secret police. They always have been.

Downstairs, the dark smell of coffee drifted from room to room. And although there weren't actually that many rooms, the house was always filled with the smell. Whether it be fragrant and lightly spread, or lay in the air like a thick sheet, it always did smell of coffee. And not to mention that this was a rather new house. Nice, unlike the condo Carlos had wanted to buy before. Condos are not to be trusted. He risked losing his perfectly imperfection to that damn black cube of enormous side and slick edges. Although he didn't. But thinking about that incident more as he poured some coffee into a cup, his hatred and despise of mountains also flourished again. But thinking about Carlos-ah, gorgeous and sweet Carlos- was enough to calm his mind. Taking a sip of the dark liquid, he saw a fleeting image in the corner of his eye, but paid none too much attention to it. And he turned away and walked towards his seat.

Carlos was upstairs in the bathroom, as Cecil made himself some coffee. I have not even put any dialogue in this bit. But you see, they did chat to one another. Both and either talking to one another and giggling happily. It was still such a bright and glorious day. The sky was, to a certain extent, a faint yellow colour, much as NightVale sky did look during the daytime. Carlos had reckoned it was something to do with chemical fluctuations or maybe NightVale was on the platform of a criss-crossing dimension or something science like. Carlos was about science. For he was and always will be, CARLOS THE SCIENTIST, GREAT CARLOS, PERFECTLY IMPERFE-ahem, where was I?

Oh and when Carlos had finished his business in the bathroom, he walked down the stairs to meet Cecil before heading to the lab to do science things. Carlos quite regularly did science things. He was a scientist. I thought you would have known that.

And Cecil went to the NightVale Community Radio Station, as he was Cecil Gershwin Palmer, voice of NightVale. And each of them carried on with their day. Each of them had separate encounters to tell over food being eaten, different memories and feelings and words and thoughts. But as the day waned on, each of them could not have predicted the telling of two new-comers in their little town. Two very odd strangers, indeed.

Cecil was in his little studio room, reading out from the pages he had in front of him into the mic. He had the habit of crinkling the corner of the pages as he read, the pages a sort of off-white and feeling rather scratchy against his skin as he subconsciously trailed his fingers over the small black lettering. Occasionally he also moved his hands about the air, waving them through the words he spoke in that deep tone, although not that deep mind you. He would speak for awhile, talking about the community calendar in NightVale, the Traffic, albeit it was always somewhat disturbing, and talking about most things that where written down for him to approach the subject on. And just as he concluded another segment-

"And now, I take you, to the Weather".

A song began to play, a random song, as each weather song was. And Cecil took off his headphones for the moment and stretched his arms above his head. Goodness, he really sat in that chair quite a lot. He made a small note in the back of his mind to remind himself to take a walk or something, but that part of his mind would not keep a note. That part of his mind would not keep anything. It was useless.

And then the radio show started back up again, until finally-

"And tonight listeners I-...ohhh?". Cecil's voice growled an octave lower and his hands rested under his chin, intrigued by the new discovery. His smile was small, but more of a smirk.

"Listeners, it seems we have some new arrivals, here in NightVale. Maybe more scientists, come to search and wonder about our mysterious little town? Or maybe some people from where dearest perfectly imperfect Carlos is from? Either way, NightVale, can I just say that we should greet them each with open arms. For there is one man with bright green eyes, and, pardon my words, an incredibly good looking face, and the other so very tall and so messy hair. Listeners, lets make them feel comfortable, them, and may I say their pretty nice car. Neat".

He could see the two men, of course. In that dainty car. A 1994 Chevy Impala he believed. And he could see very clearly the man with that strong jaw-line and the one with messy hair. He could see them, and as he watched them draw nearer and nearer, he knew already that they would most certainly be arriving here in NightVale soon. Now whether Cecil would get to meet them, he had yet to find out. But just as he was about the end the broadcast, he noticed that the two of them where not looking at the road-

"Listeners, our friends will be here soon.", he assured NightVale. "Oh dear, watch out".

Their car had jostled off the road and into the sandy wasteland of the desert. They managed to stop the car, at least, although running over a few animals in the process. I mean, they where dead anyway, but they might want to get their car cleaned a bit. No biggy, just a bit...disgusting.

He already knew what was going to happen to them. They weren't being harmed or anything, simply being brought to NightVale, the correct way. And Cecil was never even meant to see it. He wondered whether that had happened to Carlos? Although, he supposed, the first time it had happened, he had followed the rules. If you see anything, don't say anything, and drink to forget. But maybe, he wouldn't forget. He made that note again in the back of his mind, telling him to remember how people from outside arrived in NightVale. That useless piece of his brain again.

And so he ended the broadcast.


	3. Lemon Cake Aw Yiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4000 somethings words. Wth am i doing with my life. Excuse my crappy writing style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this story. I need to write the new chaptersndjrnr rnrjr

With a jerk, and a blink, one of them was already poised in a crouching position, ready to attack if needed, although no threat was detected after a small scan of the area, with eyes blinking back against the glare of the intense sun. Although the other lay face down on the dusty and sandy ground, mildly groaning into the dirt and being in starfish mode. The other, taller one, attempted to shake the other, the smaller one, awake, yet the starfish was not going to get up any time soon. Sleep deprivation, the taller one guessed.

Sam sat there, feeling rather gloomy and having already peeled off his jacket and tied it around his waist, revealing his blue and red plaid t-shirt. Was he wearing the same clothes? He could not remember nor had he the mind to try remembering. And finally the damn starfish awoke,much doing the same as Sam had done at first, and then looking down upon Sam, sitting in the dirt.

His face was scrunched up, eyes almost closed and didn't feel particularly well. Looking up and squinting at his brother, he noticed his brothers face contorting into a 'why the hell didn't you wake me up Sammy', and 'where the hell are we' face. If that was seriously possible, Dean pulled it off. And he ended up just doing a slow 360 spin on the spot and looking down at him again. His pout ever increasing until finally Dean held up his hands and just simply shook his head, eyes widening and jaw clenched.

"What the hell, Sam?". Dean's voice was rather deep and usually did not fit his "male model" face, although that voice is what made Dean all the more enticing to foes.

"I...I don't know where we are either, Dean." Sam was rather tired as well, only noticing now, although he had slept most of the ride here...where ever 'here' was. Weird. And he hadn't been able to wake Dean, so he just lay in the dirt and sun for a while, oddly finding himself smiling slightly. It was as if imaginary pieces of thread had tried pulling the sides of his lips into a sort of smile, although he bet he looked unnerving. And he hadn't felt happy in the slightest, nothing around and nothing above, only such a glaring bright sun that made his skin itch and clothes stick to him like tape. Although the smile was soon contained and his cheeks finally felt as though they were no longer being pinched.

Quite suddenly, startled out of his day-dream, was a disgruntled deep voice, sounding worried and much like bat-man-

"WHERE IS MY BABY?".

Deans face was now contorted into a startled look, his eyebrows raised and his lips pouting, eyes slightly bulging and his body tense. He swivelled round, eye's darting place to place, looking.

"Seriously, Dean?". Although he brought the topic no further, knowing full well that Dean would not go anywhere without his car. He loved that car a little bit too much. Hell, he wouldn't even let Cas teleport him places, and that was CAS.

And, as if they were in a play, they each got up, although one was already standing, and began to walk towards the facing sun. One was rather angry at the fact that his baby was no where to be found, and that he had no idea where his dear angel was, and the other was just too busy daydreaming and over thinking that they had no reason to do anything but worry. Although didn't show it.

Each no idea where on earth they were going, but feeling and remembering ever so vaguely that they were each forgetting a memory, as close as they each could grasp it, neither said anything. And under the intense heat of the sun, somehow, they managed to stumble to the edge of the sandy desert. And on the other side of the sand, was stone. Stone built into pathways and sand flattened into streets. Houses and metal and darkness. Only did they take in their surrounding now, as they had been walking, the sky had begun to dim, Sam's smile had deepened and no longer played on his lips. But instead, it was as if a brighter light danced behind his eyes and through his body, oh so bright and so blinding, yet no pain. Bewildering, yet Sam just believed it was some weird heat stroke or something. Or maybe, it was...Unnatural.

Dean began to feel a weight lift off him, that feeling of stone in his stomach began to dissipate. And as they walked, neither had even noticed that they were bathed in a deep shade of purple. As the sky was purple and neither could tell whether it was day, or night. Hours were minutes and minutes were days, such as years could be a second. Neither thought they would end up anywhere near anyone, just walked silently through the desert. And as they followed the stone pathway, leading forward and forward evermore, the town became not an image in the distance, but a reality in the making. They each came to a halt.

Both turned to each other at the same time, with eyebrows raised and minds wondering.

"So, do you want to...go check it out?". Sam's voice was rather scratchy, although still kind of higher pitched.

Dean stepped closer to Sam, each of their bodies illuminated by the light of something, and Dean's face was set in stone once again.

"Sam, we will go and check out this hell hole, and if we can get some help for our asses out here, then that's a plus. But I swear to Chuck if this place is freaky, we are not staying."

And so each nodded, each freaked out over their wits, each unable to even comprehend most of what was happening, and why so many memories felt unresolved or random times clicking into mind at the wrong moment. Neither understood. And yet they walked on.

The town, it seemed, was bathed in purple light, from the never-ending horizon of shapes so black, they appeared to be cut from the very sky's itself, and they loomed around the border of the sky, skimming and ducking under the light. Some of the town was illuminated by faint, but very much orangey lamp-posts. And although before the streets had been nothing but dirt trails and stone pathways, as they together ventured further and further, the streets became tarmac, much like it had been on that never-ending road of darkness, with an endless supply of yellow rectangles painted onto the ground.

The two walked on, minding their own business, not a soul to be seen in and around the shops and doors that encased each from both sides. And, quite suddenly, came the voice-

"Ah, Dear NightVale, it seems that our newcomers have not had a proper greeting, yet". With each word came a pull at the end, tugging the letters and his voice sounding deep, it was that voice. That man from the radio and the one that each had heard inside their own minds.

And, as the two stood, after hearing the voice, and looking at each other, came a sort of rumbling. Or, more like footsteps. Not too loud, although within the empty streets, the feet whom which they belonged to still clicked and clacked, down the street.

And as the click clacking neared, both men noticed, that is was not in fact in front of them, but rather the source of the noise was placed behind them, upon a little slope they had walked down, just a few feet away. The two men swivelled quickly, baring theirs arms, although possessing no weapons.

And a figure came into view.

"And, as always, Listeners, Goodnight, Nightvale, Goodnight". And with the flip of a switch, off went the air and off went the velvet voice with it. He had thoroughly enjoyed the weather section today, although could've done without ominous yet deadly secret agents coming into his recording booth, but he didn't want to dwell too much on it. After all, they were quite menacing.

Cecil stretched his arms above his head, cracking his neck from side to side, and doing a weird motion with his arms that sent every little glowing purple light in the room off, flipped every switch off, and as he exited the NightVale Community Radio Station, jacket in hand, the red ON AIR light dimmed, and then stopped glowing entirely.

He wondered what Carlos had been doing all day. Ah, perfectly imperfect Carlos~ Apparently he was just going to do more science things. As beautiful, perfectly imperfect Carlos always did. Having said numerous times that NightVale was so much more than just a normal town.

Opening the doors to the NightVale Community Radio Station with the bloodstone made door, and Cecil walked on. He hadn't taken the car today, as it had been so nice and bright. Like every other day, but some days you just want to be lazy and sit in your car, hoping, wondering, praying that you will somehow arrive at your destination. And Cecil didn't particularly feel like that today. He rounded a corner, although that sounds weird. And as he was walking, he came closer and closer to a figure...a man. A man in a tan jacket. Not too tan, no. Not orange. He didn't have a hat on. And he was carrying a black brief case. And as Cecil continued on, walking past the man...wait, who? He couldn't even remember seeing anyone, or that it was even a man at all...

Meh.

Science. Thinking, and more science. Basically, all that had been going through Carlos's head all day. That's mostly what went through his head. Although, not counting eating, or sleeping, or dreaming, or thinking about Cecil, and how cute he was, and how his tattoos moved about his skin, how they shimmered and changed and how gorgeous he wa-

Hm. Carlos shook his head, a wild array of thick curls coming down to meet his eyes, and being slightly illuminated by the bubbling green liquid in the vial clutched in his hand. He really needed to get it cut, although after what happened last time with Telly...maybe he could do it himself? Although he was no hairdresser, he was a Scientist. And maybe his hair would look okay. Well, after all, Cecil would say so. God, Cecil loved him, why was he concerning himself with this now, after he might have just found out why the sky in NightVale turns that weird purple colour sometimes. And, after hours and weeks of research, he had almost come up with a conclusion.

He had originally believed that the purple colour in NightVale's sky was caused by Potassium Chloride, although unable to find out why mass amounts of it were ever even in the sky, and why it would be burning, to create the colour. And just as he was going to write it down, write what he had found out, his phone buzzed. And buzzed. And finally he picked it up, silently cursing himself and about to answer rather angrily into the phone when he heard the voice-

"Carlos? You there? How was your science things today?" . Cecil. Cute and wonderful Cecil. And quickly as his anger had come, it dissipated, and he was left in awe of the silky voice and deep yet cute tones of his boyfriend. And he could already tell that through the phone, Cecil was smiling, much as his voice always pitched higher slightly when he did, although sometimes went a rather deep tone and his grin was more mischievous than normal.

"Oh, hello, Cecil. Science was good today. As many other days".

Cecil was quiet for a moment, then-

"Aren't you going to ask what the weather was like today, on the radio? Or the traffic?" His voice had gone kind of quiet and Carlos guessed he wasn't smiling anymore.

"I don't need to, Cecil. I have been listening to the broadcast. And the weather was quite good today, I have to say. And I do agree that my lab coat is snazzy". Carlos was practically almost giggling, as he never usually told Cecil that he had listened to him on air. And through the phone he could hear Cecil's wild giggling and squealing.

"Oh you are so cute. So so so so so cute! Hey, will you be home early tonight, then, if your science went good? I was thinking we could make something tonight. Not including wheat or wheat by-products, of course. So, what do you say?"

Cecil had been eating nothing but sweets quite lately. Carlos had literally no idea why. But Cecil really loved lemon cake, so Carlos had got into the habit of always getting him lemon cake whenever they went out on dates or decided to have a quiet night watching jaws on the television. Cecil loved jaws.

"You know, I probably will be done soon, Cecil. So yes. I will be home early. And what were you thinking of making?"

The line was quiet for a moment, and then came on the happy voice of Cecil again.

"Lemon cake".

That sent Carlos bursting out laughing, his five scientists all staring at him and his laughter ringing out throughout the small building.

"All right then, do you want me to pick anything up on the way home, Cecil?".

"Nope, pretty sure we have everything, so I'll see you then, Carlos the Scientist, I love you."

"See you then, my perfect boyfriend, and I love you too".

Carlos hung up his phone, and he just remembered that he had almost figured out the whole purple sky thing, and then as he was about to put it all into the computer, his phone buzzed, and he picked it up, Cecil again. Huh?

"CARLOS WE DON'T HAVE EGGS".

Ah

"Oh, um, okay then. I'll get them on my way. I love you".

"Love you too, Carlos the perfectly imperfect scientist".

And then Carlos began laughing again. Oh goodness, how he loved Cecil so much.

At home, in their little house, the two of them had began cooking. Carlos had remembered to get eggs, and now in the making was a lemon cake. Which Cecil would probably eat within a day, considering Carlos wasn't too fond of cake. And yet, Cecil had also decided that they would make pizza.

And a flour battle was raging. (No wheat or wheat by-products used)

Carlos's hair was absolutely covered, his dark curls and eye lashes turned white by the flour. He had taken his lab coat off, and was just wearing a plain red t shirt and old jeans, with stripy socks. Small pockets of flour were illuminated in the air by the lights, and displaced as both went to grab more flour to pour on the other.

Cecil was not as covered in flour as Carlos, although that might be because he had the advantage of holding the full bag of flour close to his chest, and darting to throw more on Carlos as he went to grab more from a bowl.

Carlos turned to Cecil, both taking a strong stance against the other. Carlos spoke first.

"You may have won the fight...but I am a scientist and scientists are not good at fighting so you've apparently won the war as well".

And with that, Cecil began grinning and giggling, and hopped over to Carlos to plant a small kiss on his cheek and hugging onto him like a koala.

Cecil then spoke beside Carlos's ear.

"I am a radio host with purple tattoos, of course I won the war".

All in all, it took them nearly two hours to actually put the pizza's into the oven.

Around 10 minutes after putting the pizza's in, both of them retiring to the couch to watch Jaws, Cecil shot up and straight backed, Carlos getting up from his place of snuggling with Cecil.

"Um, Cecil? What's the matter?". Carlos sounded rather worried, scouring around to see what Cecil was so tense about.

And Cecil turned his head to Carlos, eyes completely wide and third eye appeared on his forehead.

In a deep voice, lips barely moving, he whispered, "They, have arrived".

Then leaped up and out the door, leaving Carlos kind of freaked out, but maybe Cecil was just tending to NightVale duties. Though he paused the film, slipped on his shoes, and left out the door. Cecil's shoes were also not sitting near the door, he must have moved so quick. Carlos hadn't even seen him put them on, and already he was trying to keep up with Cecil as he coursed the way through the streets, seemingly unaware that Carlos was following in close pursuit.

And as suddenly as Cecil had left their house, he stopped some ways away from him. Carlos stopped and bent double to catch his breath. Although Cecil appeared to be perfectly fine. He thought he heard him say something, but wasn't listening to closely to catch it. It didn't even sound like English.

Cecil had stopped on the very edge of the shadow of the building, so only his silhouette was actually visible.

Carlos was a little bit unnerved.

Sam and Dean view:

The two men stared at the silhouette of the man. Each tense and Dean swallowed.

"Who the hell are you?". Dean's voice was even deeper, puffing his chest out and eye brows scrunched. Although, before he could say anything else-

A purple, glowing eye appeared from the darkness. It shone brightly and did not illuminate the man's figure, though it did seem to make specks of dust sparkle. The pupil itself was a lilac colour, almost white, and the eye appeared right in the middle of the man's forehead. Then he walked forward.

The man's eyes also glowed entirely white, no pupil visible, and tattoos swirled over his arms and neck, conjoining and disappearing beneath clothing. And the man with the purple tattoos spoke, lips not even moving, and forehead eye still focused on the two of them.

"Hello, new comers. And Welcome, to NightVale".

That voice was like a velvet sound, the sound of which could travel up and down your spine and tingle every nerve within its surroundings. It was so loud, loud as it was, and yet so so quiet, barely even audible but demanding and well-natured all the same.

Dean's face was no longer stone set, rather he had adopted the look of complete and utter bewilderment, eyes wide and pout set strong, and as for Sam, well. He had simply stood there, awe struck and staring directly into the forehead eye of the man, as the man seemed to be staring back at Sam. Dean scanned Sam's face quite carefully, noticing even in the dim light that he looked a little strange. Not weird, just that the shadows coursed around his lips and cheek bones, turning his normally calm face into a twisted grin, though his eye were not grinning.

Dean turned his head back to the man with the purple tattoos, and now he had a poker face, eyes returned to normal and no third eye present on his forehead. He wavered a little in place, but other than that he didn't move.

Dean was still holding his protective stance, not lowering his arms and had regained his composure once again.

"Sam? Sam are you all right?". He called out to his brother without turning around, backing away from the man with the purple tattoos slowly, and finally he came to a stop beside his brother.

Sam's face was no longer contorted into that sinister and creepy grin, but instead he just looked normal, eye brows furrowed and seemingly never had even noticed the smile ever being present on his lips. And Sam's eyes lulled back into his head, whites visible and body crumpling seemingly under the weight of something unforeseen.

Dean was just able to stop Sam from smacking against the pavement, as his arms caught his lanky body and laid his unconscious form down gently. He hadn't even had enough time to call out to Sam, though it wouldn't do much good now.

Looking back to the man, who still stood in place, eyes turned back to normal. Wearing some weird clothing that shone in the darkness, not to mention random tattoos that were moving over his skin. And Dean heard the man say something else, although his mouth nor jaw did not move, barely audible against the deafening silence of the town-

"Lemon cake".

Dean's eyes scrunched up and his head tilted slightly, as if he was going to ask "what the hell", but all that came out was something of an unfinished sentence. He had to get Sam somewhere safe, although it would be a bit difficult moving him. Dean was seriously freaked out, and took hold of Sam's arms and tried to drag him away, although only getting a few feet before standing up straighter to catch his breath.

And suddenly, footsteps. Quiet, but there. And behind the man with the purple tattoos appeared another man. Wearing...a damn labcoat? The hell? Who wears a labcoat in the desert, or whatever this was? What type of freak town was this?

Asking all these questions, but not speaking. The man's face beside the other with the tattoos was not as visible, although Dean could already tell that he had tan skin, and was able to make out a cluster of dark curls upon his head.

Then the labcoat man spoke-

"Um, hello? Are you all right? Is your friend okay? Do you want us to help? Oh and don't mind Cecil, he's no threat or anything, so you don't have to be afraid. My name is Carlos..."

The man's voice was not what you would expect it to be. Dean had expected a rather low and some-what seductive voice to come out of the man's lips, but instead a sort of squeaky and nasally one did, although weirdly it added to the attraction of the man's face.

Dean finally found his voice and spoke up after casting a wary glance down at his brother, who was lying on the ground at Dean's feet, double chin and moose hair swept wildly across his face. He glanced back up to the two men.

"All right, listen here. We, me and him, will accept your offer of help, but I swear to god if either of you try anything, we know how to fight. Understood?". Whilst saying so, he had straightened his back and made hand gestures at them, voice lowering to sound more threatening.

"Oh um, okay. We should possibly bring your friend to the hospital, although I would rather you did not go there...it can be a little...weird. Well, hey, I'm a Scientist, and there should be a plausible explanation to why your friend had just collapsed like that. So, maybe you should bring him back to our place, considering the hospital closes every Tuesday at night to allow the hooded figures to revive themselves".

"Lemon cake". That man just kept saying it.

Dean just stared, hardly even able to comprehend much of what was going on, and finally just whispered "son of a bitch" in defeat. Picking up the moose and actually, for once, getting what he had went there for. Although maybe not the same kind of help.


	4. :)

Dean awaited his brother's return patiently, well not physical return, Sam was there just not there at the same time. He seemed to have slept all through the night and didn't look like he was going to be waking up any time soon- eyes sunken in more slightly than normal, hair wild and loose strands peppered across his face. He looked like a mess, a mess even more than what he originally did look like. Like a massive moose who hadn't gotten a haircut.

Of course, he was distracting himself form the fact that his mind was working overtime, though a somewhat calm and "normal" expression caressed his male model face. Without really contemplating anything, he had begun to get more and more anxious, that never-ending spiral of ludicrous animations that stuck in his mind in every inch and form, weaving their way through and under and settling to distract him of any rational choice. Because of course-he could never let Sammy get hurt. God what would happen if dad-

Stopping himself, stop going back to memories of that past. Not wanting to delve into any more painful memories, his mind was instead drawn back to the lemon cake dude and lab coat man. Apparently called Cecil and Carlos as he had learned. Though they didn't appear too weird- after all, they had let him bring Sammy to their house and help him and Sam find out what was going on. Though they hadn't spoken much as the man named 'Cecil', soon as he walked through the door, went to make a cake. Just "lemon cake, lemon cake" he kept repeating over and over as Dean heaved Sam's huge body through the door, with the help of Carlos.

Come to think of it, they were quite weird-being the whole eye deal. Although he had already asked Cecil what that was about, puffing out his chest and deepening his voice to make sure that they weren't a pair of shape-shifter's or demons. Although Cecil had only answered him in a high pitched voice, rather scraggly and grinning in a way Dean did not want to see again. His voice pitched up and down slightly on the start of each word, seemingly ringing in his head and lodging itself in the back of his mind. He only said-

"Lemon Cake. Also….Carlos? Do we have any other food?".

Cecil spun away from him in Giselle like fashion and danced his way over to the kitchen, deciding to go on ahead to make something without Carlos's answer. He had stood there for a few seconds, face scrunched up and lips parted slightly, until Carlos just whispered-

"Um, don't worry about him. He's usually like that. Well not usually like that but he is a bit….unique? Perfect yes and wondrous all the same but he can appear slightly odd to some. Don't mind him. I mean I think he meant that the whole eye thing was something that he wasn't going to tell you? I don't even know what that's about. Oh, and heads up, he has moving tattoos too, so ya know. Well um, should we help your friend? I'm sure he possibly just fainted because of heat stroke or something or-"

Dean just held up his hand in a stop gesture, though not rudely. His sucked in his lips slightly and then he realised the immense pain in his arms. Totally forgetting to set Sam down anywhere and Carlos still holding his legs, though not much help considering he wasn't very strong. Without saying anything, they managed to open the door to a guest bedroom (probably) and set Sam's moose body down on the bed. Although it more went like 'throw his torso on first' *sam lands face down on the bed with legs still clutched by Carlos* 'okay good enough and just roll him over again'. Well, needless to say that Sam's glorious moose hair was strewn all over his face and on the pillow his head rested on.

And so here he was. That was about 20 minutes ago and Dean was trying hard not to fidget and worry too much, as Carlos had not been much help with that. He already knew he was a Scientist, from the millions of times Carlos had told him. Though he didn't really demand that much information from him, more just that he knew his name and was waiting for Dean to do so. Quite a nice guy- he thought aimlessly once more.

And so he continued to think through the night. Or day. Or whatever it was, all he knew was that the small breeze within the room and moonlight stature of buildings, different shades of purple warping over the town and some winged creature fluttering in the darkness, told him that this place was….unnatural.

Here I go fallin' down down down.

Opening his eyes, he saw, he saw absolutely nothing. Nothing but everything in between. As many stars as there were none and as there was. Still- the weird tune played in his head and made his mind throb with everything pulsing note, as if you turn headphones up too loudly and the sensitivity goes a-wall. The song played, though he did not hear it, only within a head separated by mind and different places in an electromagnetic spectrum. Dulled as it was, easy enough to be heard.

Where was his mind going? It was as if nobody was there to place himself to. Though his mind was awake-knew that much. Unlike the rest of him. One little push more and his eyes actually opened- and dear god was it blinding.

Sam lay there, eyes completely open and staring straight at the light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Apparently that's what was blinding him-not some godly force or anything. So, managing to turn his head to the right, his eyes fell upon a familiar sight. Dean lying rather squashed in a chair, jeans, jacket and all still in place upon him. T-shirt scrunched up to his face and arms folded. His expression was always the same- brow down and pout extended- although usually when Cas was around he seemed to be more peaceful. Yes it was quite obvious to Sam from an early point that Dean was not completely straight. Basically, Sam reckoned, he was as straight as his bow shaped legs. Though Dean always persisted in being with women and everything. But the way he looked at Cas- it was impossible to say that something wasn't there, considering if you tried to look at your friend like that they may just get a bit freaked out.

Why the hell was he thinking of this now? Dear chuck he had gone off topic quite catastrophically. And so, picking himself up from the bed he was lying upon, sitting up to look around. One bright light bulb hung from the ceiling, the room had an odd feel to it- not unpleasant though. The wall behind Dean was covered in pictures of a man with bright white-blonde hair smiling beside another man, with dark skin and wearing possibly the same coat in every picture. Each one was framed and in perfect condition. Each one's glass cover shone, no finger prints or marks visible, none had the same type of frame either. One appeared to be mahogany, another some stained sort of wood, another metal.

And so he sat, and so he contemplated and let his dear brother sleep in peace for once. No need to wake him up for nothing. Decidedly, no longer sleepy, moved out the door. Most of the walls were white, except a soft lilac coloured one. Though that one seemed out of place. Door handle shone bright golden-still no finger prints, no smudges or anything. No squeak of the door.

The room led to a small corridor-walls painted the soft lilac colour again. Each one decorated with pictures of the two people again. And so he walked, slowly, slowly as heavy feet dragged and mind frayed.

Although of course Sam didn't know his mind was frayed, well, he didn't know this much. For fact, no, but a guess? Yes. He could guess. He can guess.

Ahem.

Sam continued walking- into a small little kitchen. Lights twinkling on the surfaces of polished wood. A plant sat snuggly on the table, and a small breeze drafted in from the darkness outside. Wait…..it was still night time? He must not have been asleep that long then. Or was he still dreaming?

And as he was walking into the small kitchen, somewhat dazed, not at all anxious or anything, he bumped into someone. And the sounds and ringing's came to his ears, noises of voices and words. The man he had bumped into was the one in the pictures on the walls-the one with white hair. Sam stood there, peering down at the man as he stood looking up at Sam.

Then the man spoke in a tone which can only be described as somewhat fabulous in every sense-

"HELLO. GOOD HEAVENS YOU'R AWAKE! THE SHERIFFS SECRET POLICE STATION WILL BE PLEASED! Partner of Dean".

And then he twirled away into another room, leaving him somewhat amused and worried. Literally, the man twirled and danced away from him, seemingly like a ghost and rather elegant. His eyebrows contorted slightly and his mouth hung open a bit in dazed awareness. Noises came to his ears once more, footsteps loud and thudding harshly against the wood based flooring over the house. Dean's disgruntled, and deep voice could be heard rattling throughout the hallway-

"SAMMY? SAM?" And as Dean came closer through the short hallway and came to the realisation that Sam was in fact standing right there, a sigh came from Dean's parted lips and he put his hands on his hips. Back straight and looking slightly angrier than what he had during sleep.

"Goddammit Sam, I thought you were gone or worse…Hey, Sam? Sam?"

Of course, Sam did not respond straight away. After all, his mind was still swimming in a midst of otherworldly feelings and voices unaccustomed to his ears. As if he had been buried in sand for all his life, as if his mind had always been numbed into consciousness. And finally, his mind came through to his eyes and voice through voice box, raspy once again and quiet enough, although able to be heard.

"Yes? Dean?"

He could not manage any more than that, considering a now dull but thumping headache played against his temples and made his eyesight blur. Again, he could still hear Dean's deeper voice quite clearly through the ocean of sound waves.

"Uh, come on buddy. Let's sit you down and drink something. You're probably dehydrated or something. Yeah, that's all."

And so Dean manoeuvred Sam's moose body to small seat set beside a small counter of wood off to the right of the room. Well, there were many rooms. Wait….huh. Never mind.

Sam sat there. Still dazed. Unfamiliar music playing around his head and vision slightly blurred into incorrect realms of visibility. Greenish eyes flickering between spaces of able to see and darkness that didn't exist. Mind reeling and breathing becoming rather hitched with each moment, finally he just stood up. Staggered really, not able to move very well for his head felt like it was being smashed repeatedly against objects, a pain and glowing brightness behind his eyes. Looking around himself, Dean was no where to be seen. Though he could hear the faint sound of vocal chords coming from a room not far away.

The more he moved backwards, back through the small corridor, the more his head cleared and by god he could see. But the walls, oh god the walls were not where they had been, round they curved and over the boards of wrong places were the nails stuck. Tripping and fidgeting and hair strewn amongst sweat and pupils small enough to be pin pricked. Clambering out of a door and into the coolness of the purple shadows.

His mind cleared. His eyes able to see once more and still shaking, began running. Running without a care in reality, or was he even in reality? Either way, a smile began spreading over his features, reaching right from his lips to the corners of his eyes. Teething glinting slightly in the moonlight and purple gaze of eyes unseen. Away he ran, through the streets of twisted and stone, though he could hear voices calling out to him. Too many voices. Thousands and reaching inside his mind, pulling at his hair and shredding his clothes.

Then he burst through into the almighty brightness, the beautiful, smiling and golden world.


	5. The Dark Line where The Eye Persists In Seeing Something That Was Never There To Begin With

The streets were dark and the pavement scratched against worn leather shoes, which trampled and bounded across its surface. The night did look rather cold, giving off a vibe of more the colour blue than purple, but more black than anything else. Pavement cracked and sun-burnt, voices and names and the like to be unheard by the many residences that lived within the twisting streets of the vale, surrounded by simply nothing but openness. Or so it seemed.

Dean's voice rang out throughout the streets, inaudible to some and others simply not responding. I mean it did sound quite a lot like the Sheriffs Secret Police usual calling from the dirt pit during the night, as they do. Breathing through their dirt gills does contribute to a very ominous demeanour of the town.

Though Dean's mind raced, taking his eyes swirling to the streets, he took a step, but then fell tired. Hands raised to his head and people seemingly swimming around him. No one there, though he kept turning, kept swirling in and out of the right moment. No one heard, no one cared. They watched, yes, but as the brothers mind began to dim and he began to fail, nerves failing to him, and they were not going to help. Because they needed him. An aura of blue surrounded that man, unlike Nightvale's uncanny purple. Oh, they needed him all right. No need to stop the process early on.

And as suddenly as the man had burst from the house, he took a few more measly steps, then fell straight to the ground. Old jacket torn and frayed, covered in a slight dusting of dirt, jeans bottoms worn and those hands no longer holding the weapon he should've been holding. No longer was he the hunter he had never wanted to be. He was becoming something else in general and in fine print. And as he lay, for the first time, in a very very long time, the drops of rain fell from the sky as if a mini cataclysmic force was driving them. So many tiny little droplets of rain, by themselves not harmful, but together able to destroy. And as such it was now raining heavily within the dusk of Nightvale, streets becoming more blurred, as if a painting. Lights dimmed, mind dimmed, and some more smaller voices. More and more of them.

Dean lay there, on the hard,yet warm, tarmac road. Completely black, except for the yellow dashes of paint. Back facing the sky, a slow tune played within the streets, then complete quiet. Nothing. Nothing made a noise and even at this point it could be described as eerie, if not already. And then, as if a switch was turned, every single light went out. But of course this made no difference to Dean, eyes closed and lying there rather unaware of life. But now the immense darkness made it aware of other noises, people and insects and grass within the wind, and Cecil and Carlos calling out to the darkness for their newly found friends.

But something as black as the darkness itself was there, too. Although i may have lied to you slightly, Dean was never unconscious, just simply a tad too tired for the mind to handle. And maybe another small tweak to his system was made, nothing major, just enough to be of use.

He opened his eyes through the darkness, Dean, that is, and by God they shone an almighty array of purple. Bright violets and dark contortions made themselves seen.

Finally, what we needed.

"Too many people with eyes, not enough surprise~ Maybe a little...fun on the way?"

A voice sang these words out, kindly and loudly, sounding rather cheery, or unkindly? It was difficult to figure anything out at this point. Where he was, who he was, if he was even a he, or in reality if he was even alive to begin with. Maybe this was all just really descriptive instructions on the back of a microwave, or something. But who knows? So he thought 'to hell with it' and finally decided to open his eyes like any sane person would do. (ha, sane)

Brightest of the brightest light could be felt, unwelcome and welcome as it were, pain and nothing more. Or anything more. Disorientation and complete and utter anxiety lingered on his hands and body. Still so bright, bright enough to almost make you blind. But he wasn't blind, no...

And what stood in front of him was something entirely different than any sort of monster he had ever seen. Or Dean had ever seen. Or anyone, really. It stood there, limbs all in the wrong angle and face twisted into something able to be called a smile.

"OH! I forgot...sorry!". The voice was not common, though it was the same one that had been singing. Quite loud and cheery, then growling within the next instance of a sentence. Difficult to place but it sounded...squeaky? No. No, that was not it.

But he had managed not to shut his eyes, as many would, instead staring and going into a poised stance, taking advantage of the...person's changing form. He knew how to fight yes, but without any weapons? And against something that looked like..that? Dear Chuck he just hoped his height was something that would make him seem more intimidating. Sam did not show any of this on his face, of course, always keeping jaw tight and ready to bark words at any given moment.

Although as Sam blinked, just blinked, nothing more. It had moved oh so quickly, sprinted at him really, but was now standing behind him, hand clutching at his shoulder rather forcefully. Sam tried to twirl round and slam his body weight into it, using momentum as his defence, but the other hand just came up and grabbed at his wrist. Squeezing and twisting and contorting until the creatures whole arm had nearly wrapped itself around his, like some type of grotesque snake. Another hand then rested a hand on the creatures chin. Hold on...

Sam's wrist was about to snap, near screaming point he already was, eyes closed shut and jaw grinding teeth against the pain. He didn't understand what his other arm was doing, either. It just felt as if there was nothing there, he couldn't move it or anything and-

"So, dear non-citizen of Desert Bluffs, what brings you to this wonderful place?", again, the growling and dips of the voice were not something welcome, especially to someone who's wrist was being crushed by a damn snake noodle arm.

And finally, he had to scream, of course he did, if he was going to answer the creature. So he did, then finally his eyes opened. The arm recoiled, creature moved away and its eyes bled. Or, more its non-eyes bled.

"Oh. Well then."

Sam sat there on his knees in the dirt, panting and holding his wrist close to his chest, other arm still limp by his side for some unknown reason. He then managed to scramble up from the ground, take a quick glance round, then answered in his 'hey im tryna be as scary as Dean's batman voice'-

"Who the hell are you? What do you want?" Again, he did shout a little, but that was mostly because of the pain, though it did make him sound the least bit more threatening.

"Oh, I myself? I don't want anything, no. But Desert Bluffs? Oh yes, yes yes. Desert Bluffs needs you. And sorry there, about that little...incident with your arm...it'll be fine, I'm sure...I'M SURE"

The creature that was once poised in front of Sam now took the shape of a more...grotesque looking humanoid being. No eyes, for starters. Sam had almost mistaken them for demon's usual completely black eyes...but being up so close to it he could actually see into the black abyss of those sockets. And now there was also quite a large amount of blood running from the man's face. But in most appearance he looked human, in stature at least. At least 6 foot tall though, blackish hair and tan skin. His face was by far the most disturbing though.

Sam really did not want to delve on the way his face looked for too long, planning to just get the hell out of there and run,but that didn't seem like it was going to work. Considering it was so bright, and only now did he realise he was sweating profusely, beads falling down his forehead and hair damp.

Though this man was creepy, he decided to have a go talking to him a bit more about where he was or anything. apparently in a place called Desert Bluffs or something like that? Whatever this place was, it couldn't be good if that is their welcome.

"Hello, Kevin here. I found him! OH I FOUND HIM! CAN You believe!? WE HAVE A NEW ONE! OH I CAN'T WAIT UNTIL YOU SEE HIM! I THINK HE'S GONNA BE GREAT!"

Sam had absolutely no idea who the thing called "Kevin" was talking to, but instead began taking a few steps back, deciding not to engage the creature any more than he already had. And so one foot behind the other, then the other, crouched slightly still and tense in body. He felt as though he was moving all too slowly as the man was twirling and making arm gestures to something that didn't present itself to the naked eye. And so now he was almost 10 metres away, spinning on his heal, and began running. Not glancing back, he kept running, trying hard as he could to keep his wrist from moving, whilst his other arm flopped in the almost non-existent wind of the desert. But he kept on, though it seemed as if time stopped. Or that it was all too quick.

He was still running yes, adrenaline pumping throughout him, making him rather shaky and whatnot, then it was quiet again. And a sound of ...footsteps? Footsteps, in the desert? On compacted sand? Now that was something that didn't make any sense, but what made less sense was the fact that they didn't sound as though they were close, but not far away either. Or moving, at all.

Suddenly, he was falling, and all breath rushed from his lungs to make a grunt and slight yelp and his lay there face down on the sand. Wrist completely crushed underneath his weight and finding it difficult to get up from the pain and the fact that now he didn't have either of his arms to use. Still, managing to flip himself over, he lay there in slight daze of the baking sun above his head, near blinding his vision. Then a pair of black holes were staring straight over him, face mere centimetres away from his own.

Making a tutting sound, the creature did, face contorting more into mock sympathy than anything else.

"No no, now...friend. Let's get you to Desert Bluffs Radio Station. We have lots to do, my friend, lots to do..."

Sam lay there as the creature was about to pull him up, but instead managed to bring his legs up above his and slam the creature in the head with his feet. Now it's face took on another form, mouth splitting to form a smile reaching from both eyes, and blood still poured down its face. Only now did he notice it had not two, but six arms, all with little smiling teeth and tattoos over his arms. A closed eye on his forehead, too.

Sam lay there, trying to shimmy away as much as he could, but then 'Kevin' stood up at full height, arms and body language somewhat calm, except for the shadow like beings weaving in and around his legs, at first. Then around his torso and finally just swirling around him in a flurry of disorientation. No...not shadows. More like voids. Like small gateways or someth-

"Welcome...To Desert Bluffs".

He blinked, and the shadows became rabid and the creatures form contorted again. Well, that was what he can remember before being covered by the swarming whirlwind of voids and brightness. And within his head rang out that little tune, sang-

"Worship a Smiling God...Nightvale~ WORSHIP A SMILING GOD!~".


	6. Wink Wonk You're Fucked

The sun shone through the haze of a sky developed in purple light, and although Dean's face was mostly mushed against the ground, he could still feel the calm breeze over his skin. Finally managing to open his eyes against the glare of light, he sat up and rubbed his head. He was in a street. Dust rolling past him in small waves against the warm tarmac and small plants sprouting between cracks around him. He simply sat there for a while, trying to conjure his thoughts enough that he could figure out what to do.

Firstly, where in hell had Sam gone? By this point his was standing and turning around in a small circle, viewing his surroundings like a cat, but in all reality he felt as though his legs would give out if he took another step. Sam had run off, and where were those two other people? But he didn't much think about them as he needed to find his brother. Then he realised that he would actually need someone to help him because this town was so messed up, as he could already tell. He didn't actually know where he was, yes he knew he was in 'NightVale', but what street? Where was those resident's house. Had they looked for him, or just left him in the street? There was no one around. No one. Only dust and sun were present. And so, he began walking down the street, wondering faintly if he could find his way to their house. Chances were slim, but he wasn't the only one looking for someone.

Tap tap tap, the feet kept clicking on and on throughout the street. Kept walking and stumbling through the haze. Running on nothing and almost on the verge of collapsing. But Cecil bounded on. He had been running all night, trying to find that man. He hadn't been able to find him since appeared and teleported him. Dean, he must find Dean. He held something that was important to NightVale. Something important to him. He had to find him, so as he bounded on through the streets, he passed many citizens, including Old Woman Josie and Telly the barber. He had no time for hatred and was somewhat sorry for leaving Carlos at the house, but since Cecil was a NightVale citizen, he could see more, endure more, without being affected. Physically and mentally.

And so, therefore, as he was rounding a corner at top speed, he slammed straight into someone. The other falling to the ground, Cecil bent double, gasping in breathe he didn't realise he needed. Dean lay in front of him, sitting on the pavement and glaring up at Cecil. His face almost immediately dropped the façade of anger and his eyes softened to that cool green colour.

"Oh sweet Nightvalian heavens of hooded angels i found you! Where did you and your friend go, my goodness I'm tired, ah you seem to be..."

Cecil's words trailed off without stopping for breathe, Dean didn't even get a word in before Cecil grabbed his arm and pulled him up. Cecil just stared at him, gasping for breath and finally regaining it.

"What was I talking about again? Oh yes! You and your brother- wait, where did he go again? Also where's Carlos?"

Dean sighed, eyes scrunched slightly shut against the light and taking deep breaths-

"Look, dude, I've been lying outside all night or whatever and Sam ran off some place. I don't know where the hell he is and why should i know where Carlos is? I'm the one who's lost"

Dean sighed deeply again, feeling a small headache become present behind his eyes. He looked at Cecil with disdain, staring down at him in slight annoyance and confusion.

"Oh...well then. Come,come, dear newcomer friend! I know the way around Nightvale like the back of my tattoos! We can go and get Carlos to help find your brother and-"

"Wait,wait, how is Carlos going to help?"

Cecil swerved back around to Dean so violently he was nearly thrown off balance again, and he stared, well more glared right into Dean's eyes with his now glowing bright purple ones, he had stopped moving, they both had, and Cecil remained completely still as he whispered-

"With science".

They had finally made it back to Carlos and Cecil's home, standing there in an almost completely unfamiliar street, but familiar the same. The home stood tall and almost glistened and glowed within the light that was bouncing from it. In darkness, Dean had only seen a shoddy looking househouse, pretty normal, nothing spectacular. In the light of day the whole town seemed to actually shift weirdly enough. It was as if it was a new place, a new start, and that made him more on edge than he would like to admit. He absentmindedly thought to himself that this was a lot like a creepy story he had read on Reddit at one point.

Cecil waled forward to the front door, letting Dean go in ahead of him with a small nod of his head, only to have Cecil literally slither past him in the confined hallway to dart around the house quickly. Dean hardly even reacted by this point, the town itself was so weird that he didn't really think much of how weird some of the people were anymore.

But, as he strode forward a few steps more, it felt like something was incredibly off. He felt dizzy, a sensation of dizziness, like his equilibrium was thrown off. Hell at this rate his mind might as well have been chucked into Lucifer's cage for how insanely wrong he felt. And as he was pondering this, he heard footsteps. More like tapping really, but nonetheless you could guess they were footsteps. Quick and quiet, they padded around where he stood on the floorboards, almost dancing in an odd pattern around his feet. At this point, Dean hated to admit it, but he was terrified. These things usually did not happen in daylight, you see. They mostly occurred at night, and to have something potentially deadly dance around you unseen in the morning haze, in a fuckin' insane town, it made him a bit scared.

He dashed forward a few steps, only to meet Cecil halfway and actually yelp in surprise.

"Carlos is still sleeping. I should make some coffee. Want some? It doesn't contain any wheat or wheat by-products and i doubt the Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your House is around".

"Sure", Dean didn't really know how to answer to the short flood of information. As freaked out as he was, since Cecil didn't seem to react to anything, he tried to drop the whole footsteps ordeal. Looking over to where Cecil was perched on the side of the counter, waiting for the coffee machine to make the coffee, seemingly drifting in his own mind. Cecil then got up and proceeded to look around the fridge for something. Absentmindedly murmuring something under his breath.

"Oh um, sorry about whackin' into you, like, twice", was all Dean could really say at that moment as he stood there somewhat awkwardly.

"It's fine", Cecil replied looking back at him with a face of indifference.

And at that moment, Dean had to look away from Cecil. Because he began chuckling slightly at him. He now knew what Cecil reminded him of. That stupid Aoba cake. He would never hear 'its fine' in the same way ever again.


	7. "Tyler. Isn't. Here"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lol i deleted my insta and i just use tumblr.

Dean had always been one to worry about other people, always been incredibly perceptive to information and the continuation of a person's personality through the way they function the more that he is around them.

But Dean never believed himself to be smart, always just a grunt, compare to Sammy who had finished school and was ready to go to college until Dean just managed to fuck it all up for him again over and over-  
Dean did not believe himself to be anything more than a piece of trash who should most likely just have stayed dead the first time he got electrocuted. But he was still caring about his brother, at the current moment, and that was basically all he had. When he lost Sam before, he had Lisa and Ben, he had Castiel or Bobby or the Harvelle's.

But he doesn't have any of them now, so the only thing he even bothers giving a shit about it Sam. Although Sam is MIA, and Dean is having a sort of crisis as he is either on the verge of breaking down entirely into a pile of tears and screaming, or just acting like he was possessed by a demon and start ripping anyone and everyone's throats out with his teeth just for answers.

Alas, he chose neither and instead began shutting down his emotions entirely, which is usually the case in situations where he and his brother are in unforeseeable circumstances and now they've been separated, and Castiel hasn't gotten his fluffy ass to him to help.

And Sam wasn't here. All he had was these two complete oddballs he met, one who reminded him so much of Cas when he took on the hallucinations from Lucifer. The other, much like Charlie in more than one aspect, maybe even the male version of her. That little bit of information strikes a painful tone throughout his body, and he therefore makes note to refuse to even think about Charlie or Bobby or Kevin or-

Again, he procrastinates a whole lot more than most would expect, although to be honest what more would he do with his time than fill it with mindless self indulgence which is precariously close to just fucking himself over as many timed as possible?

Dean, at most points in time, genuinely didn't give a shit about anyone or anything unless it was his family. Everything else was useless and would just wreck him and everyone he knows, hell, almost everyone he knew or cared about or ever even will care about are dead. He sometimes think he might as well just sell his soul again just so he can atone for all the bloody shit he's done in his wasted excuse of a lifetime.

This could keep going on and on for years about himself being nothing, but currently was unable to pull himself from this depreciating amount of self loathing because of his current state.

Dean essentially felt like his whole world was gone, no family or friends or anything, and for the first time in months, years even, he felt completely and entirely alone enclosed in his whole mind.

And it was fucking him over more than he could imagine.

Dean finally decided that he should get up even after getting literally no sleep, despite this couch being incredibly comfy beyond comparison to old motel beds and too firm to be comfortable car seats.

Speaking of which, he did not remember lying down on any couch or even closing his eyes for that matter. Despite that, he could already tell by the smell of coffee and a weird comforting dustiness throughout the air, that he is still in Cecil and Carlos's house, although he doesn't hear any commotion from the kitchen or anywhere else in the house.

Cecil and Carlos just seem to have a calming effect on him, at least the house does, it's so quiet and serene, but not unnerving quietness like it had been previously.

Dean really doesn't understand much of what has been happening in the past few...hours? He can't really tell considering he noted a while ago that clocks apparently are not really a functional thing here, in...what did Cecil call it? "Night Town"? Something along those lines, and if Dean was going to be honest, he wouldn't have put it past this town to have the signs or some shit around in freakin' enochian, considering the sheer insanity of the place overall.

Dean ended up just getting up, not realising that a blankey had been placed over him at some point throughout the night and a pillow conveniently placed behind his head, so surprisingly he hadn't woken up feeling like he had broken half of his bones or something.

That had usually been the case with him, feeling so badly cramped and claustrophobic that he was surprised he hadn't accidentally whacked himself mos times when he were apparently a common occurrence in people who had been to Hell and back,more than once.

So Dean sat up, stretching his arms above his head, hair slightly ruffled and eyes not fully adjusted to the bright lights streaming in throughout the house. The couch and furnishings may all be dark browns and greys, but even then it reminded him of how homely Bobby's house had been. It reminded him of what he or his brother didn't have anymore.

Dean's mind was going off on an insane tangent and he couldn't be assed to pull himself from it, mainly because in his own selfish way, he just wanted to remain in the ultimate comfort and serenity of this place, and felt if he moved too much he would ruin it all.

His head shot up as he heard the tell-tale sound of footsteps padding along the floor, bare feet at that, and a yawn from behind him. He couldn't tell whether it was Cecil or Carlos but he immediately put up his strong front, in case these people where insane or something, or maybe they where vampires, or demons or-

"Good morning"

It was such a simple and directed statement that Dean forgot for a moment that there was anyone else here besides himself in his own mind. All he offered to the statement was a curt nod, and scrubbed his hand over his face as he stood up, setting the blanket aside neatly on the couch.

It was Carlos, who instead wasn't a labcoat but a large oversized t-shirt with a pair of longs shorts beneath that. Dean was a good head taller than him, maybe more, and Carlos wasn't exactly the buff frame of muscle like Dean or Sam was.

But still, Dean found himself momentarily lost in the moment, as he waited as Carlos made some coffee, chatting away about things, Dean faintly caught some words like "mountains" or "dog park", but overall had tuned out, mind unable to stop spouting worrisome bullshit about Sam, the fact that Cas hasn't shown up to help them despite Dean praying his ass off last night.

And the fact that he, essentially, was completely alone. So he stood there, brooding, and was thankful when Carlos didn't question it, simply set down a cup of steaming coffee in front of him, and informed him he was going to get Cecil up so they could help Dean find his brother.

Dean was not used to this unsolicited charity these people where showing him, and he could feel that sharpness in his stomach when he thought about how nice these people's life's where.

Cecil and Carlos where so happy together. All his other relationships failed. Dean felt incredibly alone.

Cecil and Carlos returned to the kitchen a while later, Cecil's...tattoos? Moving across his skin and shimmering in the light. He was dressed in a waist coat, button down white and purple shirt and -

Dean had not noted until now, but Cecil's hair was white, completely. It was so much a juxtaposition in the way his eyes glowed faintly purple and the rather bright colours his dressed in.

Carlos and Cecil stood there, Cecil gazing mindlessly out the window waiting for coffee, and Carlos turned to him.

"So, uh, Dean? So, I'm guessing you aren't from NightVale or anything, so we could help you find your brother, if you want. I'm not really sure how much we can help, but Cecil's been saying how some...weird things have occurred since you two arrived as well".

"Uh, um, thanks? Y-Yeah, that would be great. Hell, this place is weird".

Dean wasn't actually too sure on how to reply, as this type of hospitality hadn't ever really been offered to him. He didn't know if Carlos and Cecil could really help, but they could at least help him around...NightVale? It seemed like a big place.

And so the day continued on, Cecil apparently didn't need to go to work, whatever his work was, Carlos decided to help Dean instead of going to the lab to do 'science', and Dean followed around like a lost puppy. Apparently, Sam could have accidentally disappeared into the dog park, but there was no way of knowing if he did and both Cecil and Carlos were adamant on staying away from the hooded figures.

Dean swore his mind was going to implode with all the insane information he was getting given, although his main concern was Sam, as they had apparently checked every place in Nightvale, and Sam was still running around somewhere with a concussion or something.

At least, Dean was told they had looked everywhere in NightVale, as he hadn't been aware there was another place called 'Desert Bluffs', and that Cecil had been getting some disturbing signals from the place recently, as he had only been there before and failed to kill his double.

When they returned back to Cecil and Carlos's home, Dean noticed for the first time in a few hours that he had been sweating his ass off, damp and disgustingly dirty all over. He needed a shower or something, but genuinely did not trust these people enough, even though they seemed to be nice enough. Again, that calming and almost sleepy feeling was back again, and he soon felt like he could place his trust in these people as if he had known them for years, like his whole family.

He didn't know why he felt like this, but it was a feeling he welcomed, and the whole un-trustful act was just that, an act.

Cecil proceeded when they got back to go on a long monologue of what Desert Bluffs is, and who 'Kevin R Free' was. Dean didn't recognise the name, but already had a bad feeling planted into his stomach about it. Cecil explained that a while ago there was a large sandstorm, at the time he had been broadcasting, and he had met his 'double'. He described Kevin in meticulous detail, like a doppelganger of himself but not an exact copy. Dean could tell that the subject was unnerving for both of them, as Carlos had found a particularly interesting spot on the floor to stare at. Cecil had a somewhat amazing way of speaking, voice and tone incredibly in tune at all points to help the dynamic of his speech, and soon enough Dean found his eyelids heavy.

They had been talking for well over two hours, and Dean felt his mind darken with the large amount of information he had been told. Everything sunk in, and they had reasoned out that Sam provably wasn't in the Dog Park, and the more reasonable explanation was he somehow made his way to Desert Bluffs and ran into Kevin.

Cecil didn't go into further detail on the matter, but he kept reassuring that he could feel Sam's presence, so he was definitely alive no matter the circumstance. Dean didn't know if that was a good thing, but he had never met Kevin, although by the descriptions of his blood and guts covered office and ripped out eyeballs with a literally splitting grin, he reminded Dean of something he met in Purgatory.

Dean felt that weight in his stomach sink further and further until it felt like his whole body could convulse and he could just scream. Scream and cry and beg for someone to come help him, to make him feel less alone, to give him back what he cared about.

But nobody came.

Dean did not remember ever falling asleep. Darkness. Everything was incredibly dark. It was so dark it was preferably nothing rather than something in his mind. His world seemed convulsed and distorted within this darkness, memories and futures and words and people being brought together and ripped apart. His teeth ripping through someones throat, then he's drinking something. Then he's in purgatory, he's fighting; looking and searching for his angel. He keeps searching but it's all his fault in the end. He fucks up so bad he basically kills Castiel. Leaves him in that hell hole, leaves him for dead and selfishly gets himself out. he doesn't deserve to be saved, he is not righteous, he is not worth saving.

He rounds a corner he didn't know he was walking to, it dark, like a cave painted in black and watercolour and blood. Castiel lies on the ground, his eyes stare blankly up to the sky of darkness and he clasps and hand in his own. There's two bodies. someone wearing plaid, bathed in blood and cuts and bruises and bone raking out of the skin. He made his fucking bed, this is what he is, now lie in it.

Dean basically threw himself off the couch, slamming mindlessly into the small coffee table in front of him and scrambling away from something unseen and unbeknown to him. Dean took in a breath, then another, trying to calm the heart beating in his chest and the lingering feeling of fingers wrapped around his own.

He didn't speak to himself. Didn't turn on the light for comfort. Didn't reach out for Sam or Bobby or anyone.

All he did was pray silently to Castiel. He kept praying so much, repeating his name over and over and over again until he felt a headache forming and light began streaming in throughout the house.

Dean stayed on the floor, wrapped his arms around his knees as he pulled them up to his chest for comfort, and sat completely still as he fought off the feelings his mind forced to himself.

He had started to close his eyes again, thinking again of Cecil and Carlos's hospitality. Letting a complete stranger stay in their house, help finding his brother and getting them home. Hell, they even offered to buy him some clothes because his were dirty. He said he didn't need any, but they offered their whole hospitality anyway.

They where so happy it hurt him beyond belief. He wanted this, wanted to be together with his love and have a nice house and family and drink coffee together with him. He wouldn't admit it out loud, not at this moment, but as he realised Cecil and Carlos where together he felt a odd sort of hope blossom in his chest.

Maybe he could have a relationship like that one day, with Ca- He stopped himself the deep feeling of despair ever present as he knew it would never work. Dean was nothing to anyone, he wasn't intelligent and would just weigh everyone down, especially Cas. Especially his brother.

He decided to let his mind wander and finally felt himself nodding off again, body flopping against the couch and feeling the light coolness prickle against his skin. He was about to finally fall asleep, with images of Cas's handsome face in his mind, when he heard the smallest flutter of noise he could've possibly mistaken it as nothing if he had not trained his senses long ago.

He barely had time to move his head from the position on his knees when he heard-

"Hello, Dean".

He could tell there was a smile, as it was ever present in his voice when speaking to Dean.


	8. Mass Media

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doom dada dividada

His head shot up to the sudden noise, neck jerking almost violently and eyes swivelling at the motion, unable to find the source. Next thing he knew his legs were moving without thought and he was pacing around the space, searching throughout the darkness for someone he knew wasn't there. Eyes flickering in the dark over blank surfaces illuminated in shades of purple and orange and unattainable colours to the naked eye in which he was sure he could find Castiel, hiding in plain sight using some angel trick or shit to fool him into looking for him like a mad man. Dean should've known better than to trust his instincts as his legs led him out of the room, out of his mind palace of comfort and complete obscurity from the world, out past the haziness of his vision within that house and all its grossly exaggerated glory in the blank wilderness called Nightvale, and out into the open.

Once he began wandering and walking he didn't seem to want to stop or to retaliate against his legs, even if they were burning and even if he stepped on glass or some other shit that left his feet raw with the skin scraped and blood oozing from slits, he didn't give two shits because all he could hear was the faint but still residing voice of Castiel in his head which he followed. He would keep following it even if it brought his end because what else had he to hold onto or follow at the current time? When you are left completely alone at night could develop into something much closer to insanity and hypersensitivity of the senses and Dean almost felt as though he were high as balls with the way his brain was processing some shit. The pavement would crumble and fall away from him in an almost symmetrical pattern under his feet as they would walk among bloodied corpses with their eyes gouged out and the sky screaming at him with a voice of broken hysteria as his head jerked around trying to locate Castiel's voice through the madness.

Singing to himself and hushing someone who kept disappearing around the trees, they kept laughing and he kept telling them to be quiet otherwise the eyes wouldn't open, his eyes weren't working and his head didn't feel screwed on correctly anymore. The wind was slight and was singing softly in a tune he couldn't place for the life of him, but it was trying to stop him from finding Castiel. Everything and every fucking one was always trying to keep him from finding his angel. Blood was trickling and spraying lightly mixing with the rain as he stepped on the head of some bitch he couldn't remember no care about and it crushed and squelched as he trotted his way through them. He wanted to rip their throats out with his teeth and feel the blood rushing over his skin as he dug his face in further into the fleshy hole left in something once known as a throat, but he just kept on walking. The sky made haste for the night and the day and the night again and he wondered if this wandering would be his end even though he had never quite began. Began what he didn't know but the smell of blood was under his nose and assaulting him out of his thoughts of happiness as he bit almost clean through his lip and the other small cuts and slices burned under the mere force of teeth on them. Not caring not giving a shit not caring that he could maul his face and disfigure it to resemble his goddamned soul and to match his personality truly. Despite that, a hand came up to his face, although feeling detached and more like a foreign object as his feet suddenly slowed and he finally felt the hand come away slick with blood, coagulated blobs stuck on his fingers as he felt his way gingerly through his beard for the source of the flow. Once found, he prodded against the area and simply studied the liquid coating his forearm and hand, his fingernails and cuticles, under the low light of the sky, and found a sort of beauty in his own destruction which had his pants tightening around his hips as he thought of how beautiful Castiel would look like this.

Those thoughts came to an abrupt end when he found himself dropping to his knees in front of a tree, panting out of breath and unable to really see the ground not even 3 feet in front of him. hands splayed out on the rough terrain to stop himself from completely keening over and giving into his sudden extreme fatigue, he managed to remain like that for what felt like eternity or a second before having the strength to lift his head and study the area. Moving back onto his legs crouched there in the dark, he could see the almost endless terrain cast out in front of him much like the sea, the sky not screaming or speaking to him for once and the wind subsided to an almost whisper in his ears. He could no longer hear Castiel. Couldn't feel him or his presence or his scent or his fucking voice or fucking anything and his mind began screaming at him as he couldn't breath and his lungs almost felt as though they were convulsing inside him and he was sure he would throw up blood and bile and his guts any second. Flopping onto the ground he could barely register the deep groves in the ground and how they felt against his back through his shirt, the cooling earth and the small bits of dried earth that crumbled under his weight as his body no longer willed to support his minds fantasies and imaginative rampage for the night. His breathing didn't even out even after many minutes of waiting and convulsing in on himself into a foetal position, only when he again heard the wind speak and whisk past his ears did his sudden bought of anxiety fade enough for him to stop digging his nails into his head and begin to come down from his no breathing stance. Faintly the taste of copper was in his mouth as well as it surrounded his very being to the point of bile rising in his throat, but he could have sworn to hearing something moving behind him, from his position only seeing the world from a side view from lying down and not yet feeling well enough to test his bodies movements to move into a sitting position against the tree. Didn't know why, but he didn't feel anything bad from the presence, either he was too tired to care or his intuition was actually right, but even so he twisted his head enough to take a glance at whatever the fuck it was that decided to join him in his stupid misery.

Sammy stared back at him, a smile somewhat present on his face as his head cocked to the side slowly in a questioning manner, tall frame casting a large shadow against Dean lying on the ground as they both stared at each other in the darkness that pervaded only to create a now more threatening atmosphere between the two. Dean stared, eyes wide and again his body was moving without accord and his arms were wrapped around Sammy's tall frame, pulling his head down to meet his shoulder because of his height and he pressed his weight into him and finally took a breath again, inhaling the smell he would always be able to place that was his brother. Feeling Sammy slump slightly against him, he just kept holding onto him and was unable to speak, when he did he finally again took note of the blood and gunk around his mouth and both ended up sliding into a kneeling position against each other as Dean hugged the shit out of his little brother. He could hear Sammy's breathing and they sounded raspy and strained, tired, his whole aura screamed tiresome and sad and Dean truly had never felt it before, still he only took slight note of it before pulling away from Sammy to look at him. Sammy stared at him almost blankly but as Dean called out to him quietly a few times his eyes took on the notion of recognition again and he stared at Dean's face. God he must look like complete shit but at the moment he couldn't say that he gave much of a shit.

"...Dean?". Sammy asked him lightly and if he hadn't been truly listening he may not have even seen Sammy say anything because he could barely hear it as it wasn't much more than a strained whisper in which Dean could see the recognition truly come back into Sammy's face, what he had been lacking just moments before made him whole again.

"...Y-Yeah Sammy, Sammy...it's me, it's Dean. It's me. It's me...where you been buddy? You just...you left. You okay? You're okay Sammy? You're okay thank fucking god you're okay...you're okay",

Dean's mind was barely comprehending the situation and therefore he was surprised he could actually say anything at the current moment because his mind really wasn't processing much apart from how he had a hard on thinking about himself fucking Castiel to hell covered in blood and both of them becoming true Gods, and the fact that he had just found Sammy. He had just found Sammy and he wasn't chopped up into little pieces of addicted to demon blood and his eyes weren't black and he was alive. Alive and breathing, albeit laboured and tired but Dean really didn't care too much considering. He didn't care if they were hugging in a field of burning and bloodied corpses with their throats slit and brains oozing out of hollowed bloody shells, if their legs were drenched in blood and bile and guts and viscera lay around them in a pattern of death. If the fucking reapers sang and danced and paraded their winnings, he wouldn't fucking care. Because Sammy was material and was here and he could smell him so he must be here. He must be. So Dean just kept hugging onto him and praying to Castiel to pick up the damn phone already, to help them both out because they had no idea where either of them were at the current moment and he couldn't help the small choking noises escaping from his mouth as he again clutched Sammy close to him and made sure he was breathing.

He could feel a wetness on his stomach and looked down to see black. No no no that was entirely fucking wrong but in the conditions and the low light it appeared black, appeared to ooze out of him and Dean helplessly looked down and back up at Sammy's face as he couldn't entirely process what it was he was looking at. Gingerly he took one of his blood encrusted hands and felt his way for the buttons of Sammy's shirt as he looked drawn out and up at the sky like it was going to fucking help him now. Peeling back the fabric which had almost fused itself to Sammy's skin because of the copious amounts of blood dripping and trickling from what can only be described as a hole in his lower abdomen. Dean fell back more against his legs as Sammy sat there slumped and head tilting back to the sky, exposing his throat and mouth hanging open slightly, and Dean genuinely couldn't do much more than stare for a few moments at the gaping hole in Sammy's stomach before blinking his was back to reality. He blinked. He blinked again and now he was holding Sammy's organs in his hands, pulling and ripping the jellylike and fleshy lengths out, nails digging in and becoming engrossed into the flesh, raking long lines through the guts and intestines as Dean only stared at his body moving without his will. He blinked and he kept blinking, seemingly the only thing he was in control of because he wouldn't say his mind was fathomable anymore. He blinked and he was kneeling above Sammy's body, hands gabbing around his ribs as his teeth ripped and pulled, slicked with blood as his bit through muscle and skin sliding between his teeth, punching and kicking the ribs until they snapped and broke and splintered into the gaping hole. He blinked and he swallowed and all he could taste was blood. Not coppery but completely overwhelming as he felt it sliding down his throat and he in turn swallowed more and more of it before realising his teeth were latched into Sammy's throat, the skin pulling and giving against his blunt movements of ripping and tearing as he used his hands to dig his nails and fingers into Sammy's face to have a better grip, eye bulging as his finger pushed inside the socket and nails ripping into his skin and pulling hard at his mouth, latching onto Sammy's teeth as he made strange garbled noises and sounds that didn't faze Dean in his request for redemption.

The sun shone behind the two of them as Dean's shadow completely enveloped Sammy's slumped and misshapen frame on the ground, the once pastel yellow and grey earth now dyed a crimson and stained it so as it was sucking it up, almost as thirsty as Dean was as he drank and gulped down The Abominations blood for himself. For how else does someone become a God without sacrificing something in order to become the strongest? There is no share of power and there is no way for two opposing to live in neutral with each other. There is no way Dean would allow some disgusting being to copy him and steal what is his. In this instance only one of them could exist for the end of the world was nigh, only one of them had the right to witness the end and start of time in coordination with the fall of man. Only the Righteous Man had the right,any right, to view such a thing No such abomination of Heaven or Hell would ever get the privilege to. Not even Sammy.

He was God. He was the complete omnipotent being. He was omnibenevolent in his own right. Had to credit Sammy, he made him into this. He was God's creator, a complete abomination was the creator of the most powerful being in the world who could destroy and create all the unfathomable horrors of life that mere mortals dealt with. He felt no remorse for his actions, nothing. What he did feel was the way the blood pooled around his mouth and how it was much thicker going down than one would think, but after all he had to do this. End it all and create the end and new before ending himself. A God had no choice when his time runs out, God does not control time for mere Humans created it as a perception to have a feeling of power. How funny, he thought to himself, mouth twitching at the corners as he continued digging his teeth in more into the flesh. How funny. How funny. How funny.

How funny these stupid Humans are to God. He was not a God who created Humans, who created anything. He would bring about the end. Fix it all. Murder them all. Eat them all, feast on them. Fuck them and make them cum for him however he wished and he would have whatever he wanted and yet have absolutely nothing in the end. Nothing because all he had needed at first was Sammy, then it was Castiel. They both abandoned him. They both fucking deserve this. Mary died, Mary died, liar liar mom on fire, Mary Mary Mary she died what the fuck did anyone else want. John is burning in Hell much like he did. John is burning. He didn't save Adam. He shouldn't fucking have to. He shouldn't have to save any of these fuckers. Shouldn't have to. But that wasn't him speaking, that was God and God and himself hadn't truly become one yet considering.

One can only become God through sacrifice.

That is what Dean had been thinking and repeating in his head before his head jerked up and his eyes became dazed in the harsh light of the morning as he immediately felt how his legs had cramped from his awkward sleeping position. He looked around, looked around some more, kept looking around the area before feeling his face. Lips broken and bleeding badly, sweet and coppery taste ever present in his mouth, nails covered in gore of all kinds, he moved, ignoring the cramps of his legs and looked at his feet, blood covered; slits and gravel ingrained in some areas. There was a wetness on his crotch and he faintly remembered thinking about him and Castiel before the image of both of them fucking violently covered in red came back to him as well as all the other thoughts and images from his...dream.

He held his head in his hands and felt the warm drops dripping down his face and landing on his shirt, darkening patches forming as his mind mulled over whatever the fuck that was. That was before he noticed the other presence in the room. Truly noticed it, a dark presence in looks; eyes bulging and wings far different than those of a normal angels. Far different.

"I heard you calling me, Dean. I came as soon as you called",

the figure spoke to him and Dean could feel his mind begin to piece back together as he stared, mouth open slightly, but not enough strength to actually say anything. Simply staring before he reached out a hand and it was gingerly held with what could only be described as a mound of blackness that was every colour at once and yet it was whole but didn't exist either. Dean stared and felt himself being pulled up from his position so he was now standing in front of the being, blanket falling from him onto the floor yet he took no notice. Staring at this thing. At Castiel. He blinked. And his trench coat clad angel stood before him once more, hair messy and skin glowing in the weak morning sun glistening off the surfaces of the house. Castiel stood before him in all his glory and Dean couldn't help but think that even if he wasn't a God, or anything close to one, that he wouldn't mind getting fucked up by the true God standing before him.

Dean was not the one moving. Dean didn't know what he was doing, but next thing he knew he had grabbed Castiel's trench coat from the front, grabbed onto it hard and had his mouth slammed against Castiel's, feeling his stubble against his face, forcing his tongue into Castiel's mouth as he made a surprised noise at the sudden motion. Castiel didn't have much time to react as Dean had him shoved against the wall, hands feeling up and down Castiel's chest, around his hips, grabbing onto his ass and squeezing hard, earning something akin to a moan from Castiel against Dean's mouth as he continued to lick against his teeth, biting his lips and feeling himself grow hard from the warmth and wetness, unable to control himself. Dean pressed his body firmer against Castiel's and ground his hips against Cas's, feeling the hardness brush against his hips and earning a groan from him as his trousers felt much too tight. Pulling away for a moment, he studied Cas's face, flushed red cheeks and bright eyes came into his gaze as his hand lifted Cas's chin up, Dean almost purring at the sight of the man he wanted to fuck being held against a wall with messed up hair and blood coating his lips as he stared at Dean in...hahahahahaha. He ignored Castiel asking him to stop, ignored whatever the fuck he was saying. He just wanted to fuck God and feel good for once in his life. Was this him. Why couldn't he move. Someone was speaking in his head and he couldn't understand what was happening. He didn't understand.

Dean's mouth lifted into a sort of shit eating grin and his canines were easily visible, and in this situation he was the predator and Castiel the prey. Castiel started a sentence but it ever reached him as he forced him into a kiss again, the taste of blood mixing between them and Dean completely lavishing the taste and feeling Castiel gave him, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about how good it would feel to fuck him until Castiel couldn't speak, until he was drunk on his cum or some other shit. The taste of blood mingling between them was enough to get Dean to almost come but the sheer feeling of Castiel against him and everything was enough to make him moan rather loudly, Castiel squirming beneath him. Dean was content to get his way and pressed his weight harder onto Castiel to stop him from moving away from him before he felt a pain behind his eyes, his whole sight and every sense lit up with pain and for a moment he was completely stunned before he pushed himself away from Castiel, Heaving and unable to breath as he stumbled away, spitting out apologies and words he couldn't understand. He didn't understand he didn't mean it he didn't want this but something kept whispering to him that he did that this was him that this was what he needed. He stumbled and sat a few feet away from Castiel, who was gazing dumbstruck at him for the moment.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't...", Dean spat out his words as his body was his own once more, he was the one in control again, if only for a moment.

"I'm leaving", was what Dean heard before he comprehended the words completely. Before he could do anything he was alone again. Alone again and this was his fault. This was most definitely his fault and he knew it because this was what he wanted all along. This is what he knew would happen. This is how a God was made.

Then he blinked. And he woke up, swathed in a blanket, asleep on the floor. Moonlight shining in the house. Eerily quiet, everything quiet. Nothing. He was no God. If anything, he was more akin to Satan.


	9. Go FxxK Yourself :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> take no notice. i name everything with vulgarity lol.   
> I'm actually astounded once i went back through this at the amount of mistakes. Welp. So Sorry.

_Hi again. Lots of things have happened and stuff lol. Been a while. Btw setting wise I have based Nightvale kind of off of Bemposta, because it reminds me so much of Nightvale at night hah. Wanna guess what the ending will be? Nothing happy because life isn't happy. Let's ruin this :)_

_IE gore, violence, swearing, whatever lol to be expected_

 

Waking up, from that transition of deep sleep into something so much less realistic to the point that it begged the question of true idealistic realism at all, is something that Dean went through every morning. Sometimes he woke up and didn't give two shits what happened to him, nihilistic in a sense that he wanted the whole world to just fucking give up already and let him go to Hell like he knew. He was stuck in a limbo of sorts by which he was so engrossed to the point of disassociating himself from reality- the only way for him to continue living as he did. Attrition of repetition through he felt his sanity begin edging away thoroughly over the past few years, being apathetic to the idea and true reality of death that would be so easy to let consume him, if not for the fact that he had Sammy to look out for. Violence was his altruistic way of dealing with situations and his entire life in general because of his parents, mainly John Winchester for that fact, but Mary even just decided to leave, leave and go die like a motherfucking-

He scratched his read, fingers running through the shaven sides of hair, gingerly feeling over the small bumps and variations in skin underneath his scabbed and thick-skinned fingers. Nails being bitten, broken down short and caked underneath with dirt of all kinds and the occasional fleck of dried blood on them. The light streamed into the open house, illuminating him indirectly, the light providing his eyes with a hard time in which he could only squint against the light as he tried making sense of the whole situation again. It occurred to him almost immediately about what he had done previously, or...hadn't done, he couldn't remember, he couldn't remember if he had dreamt that or not and suddenly i twas all rushing back into his head, blinding almost to the point that he threw himself from the floor and ran to the sink to throw up the contents of his stomach. Eyes stinging and watering and the taste of bile lingering in his mouth as he dry retched and ending up flopping to the floor in a heap, with his eyes closed, one sock hanging off his foot and the blanket previously on him strewn messily across the room.

The next thing he knew was Cecil crouching over him, trying gingerly and in vain to pick Dean up from the floor without possibly disturbing him from the somewhat awkward position being slouched against the cupboards underneath the sink that he threw up in quite a while ago, after he (presumably) passed out. Carlos was there too but Dean could only here his voice as Cecil was obscuring his view, noticing how shaky it was and how difficult it was to focus on anything at all, all the colours meshing into one, and the next thing he was on his feet rather wobbly and being led over to the couch extremely slowly, agonisingly really. He was plopped down, offered some water, which he doesn't remember drinking, and soon felt his head clearing and his eyesight becoming more clear. As it turns out, his wobbliness had proven to still been a slight problem once seated as Cecil and Carlos had had to sit on either side of him and prop him up on the couch so he wouldn't flop to one side, although he mutely could hear them speaking quietly between themselves, occasionally asking him things with little to no response as he was focusing on trying to concentrate himself and get back into the real world.

After an expanse of time, he slowly leaned forward and held his head in his hands, he could feel himself coming back together, and was now sure that what had "transpired" last night had been entirely unreal. Castiel had never been here, never been with him, and that hadn't truly been "Dean", that had been that version of himself willing to kill anything, fuck anything, and all for his own gain. The demonic version of him. One that he never wanted to associate with again. However after he had gained his composure, he turned his head sideways to look at Carlos, who offered him a dimple crested smile, and then to Cecil who leaned forward and turned his head to Dean, mimicking him. Dean smiled slightly, something bitter inside him told him he shouldn't, but the sheer ludicrousness of the situation and predicament he had found himself in made him grin in a sense that these two odd men gave him hope. Hope in what he had no fucking clue anymore, but something seemed to brew within him, although he situation at hand probably had to dealt with first.

Cecil turned side-wards to face Dean,

"And while the future is fast coming for you, it always flinches first. I think you should remember that Dean Winchester of outside Nightvale. As would suggest you needed something of a pick me up of sorts from this mornings events", he spoke in a very comically serious tone, yet still had a smile present on his face.

"In a way Cecil, that can be used in most contexts, but I would suggest to you Dean, that looking for your brother may help your personal situation, ha", Carlos joined in and in a way they indirectly spoke to him whilst speaking to him, it made him feel like he was important in some respect to each of them yet not really simultaneously.

Dean sat for a while whilst Cecil and Carlos fussed over him as to what they should do, deciding factors in which they both decided to take a day off from their..."jobs", that Dean knew of, and they decided to help him on his way to finding his brother instead of anything else, as they put him before their own duties, and this somewhat affected Dean greatly in their means of hospitality to where they were considering him to even of more importance than the mundane values of their own lives. Something he hadn't been shown or given throughout his own up until this point really.

They had kept asking of his assurance of his state of being, that he was fine to go out and look for his brother, that he was able to stand and such and he kept assuring them, throughout they're short time in leaving the house and walking out into the street after some food that they always seemed to have prepared.

Upon leaving the house, the light was near blinding and reflected so much off of Cecil's hair, it was almost difficult to even look directly at him without having to shield his eyes from the glare, even though he had to shield them anyway to stop a headache forming in the back of his skull. Continuing on down the street after Carlos had locked the door, they entered an expanse of space after a while, all cobble stones covered in bright orange sand that whipped about in the wind and sunshine, even the heat created a sort of hallucination of the area, tricking his eyes into seeing...Sammy?

Dean blinked and the image was gone just as quickly as it had shown up, his eyes stung and he hadn't realised that his legs had stopped moving and therefore Cecil and Carlos were a good few meters away from where he stood in predated awe. Shaking his head slightly in a way to physical ward off the images, he started walking again and slightly skipped in turn to catch up with Cecil and Carlos, not taking note of the literal five-headed dragon watching them all from a good distance away, partially obscured by the sand and sunlight, each head whispering wildly about the Newcomer hanging around the Scientist and Voice of Nightvale.

Dean didn't know in what expanse Nightvale was, how big it was and what type of people actually lived here, therefore the idea of a physical search was somewhat unappealing to him in terms of finding Sammy, although considering his options at the moment, he couldn't complain at the amount of hospitality and help he had received so far. And so they WALKED. They WALKED on many a WALK signal and continued to keep on WALKING, just WALKING more and more throughout the day until they WALKED to the Dog Park, the Monolith, and eventually meeting a man named Steve Carlsburg, however Cecil wouldn't go anywhere near him and instead stood a good amount back as they found him outside a shop, Carlos instead instigating the conversation and Dean joining in on describing Sam, getting a confirmation from Steve that if he were to see Sam, he would go find Dean to let him know. The most Dean and Carlos could do was thank him as he left, seemingly their options running out in terms of where they could look physically in Nightvale.

Dean proposed the option of him doing some research on where Sam could've gone, through the use of the internet, and Cecil and Carlos had readily agreed that he could use their computer, Carlos more as he had an apparent "scientific" one which he had calibrated to actually work with wi-fi in Nightvale, as when he arrived nothing worked at all. So instead they made their way to Carlos's Lab, beside Big Rico's Pizza, on the way however they passed a building labelled 'sheriff's Secret Police', Dean readily about to leap into action to burst in and demand the police's help, however he was grabbed roughly on each arm by Carlos and Cecil and pulled off down the street, to which they explained that the recent incident of the dog park and escape of the Librarians had recently made them slightly...agitated.

And so upon entering Carlos's Lab, Dean let his mind rest for a moment, out of the glare of the sun as well as the immense heat that made his whole body clammy and tired within a few hours, he allowed himself a moment in the cool and intrusive darkness of the Lab to take over him, listening without intent to Cecil an Carlos talk to each other, silently looking at how they interacted both physically and subconsciously around one another, the slight tip of Cecil's head towards Carlos's voice, the way Carlos still seems flustered by Cecil no matter how long they are around each other, and the way that Cecil's tattoo's dance and shimmer whenever he speaks to Carlos in that slightly lower tone, body forming against Carlos subconsciously as he leans in towards him and-

He stopped himself right there for the moment, trying to not let his mind get away from himself and instead focus on the task at hand, Carlos signalled to him that the computer was ready to use and - Oh boy was he right about it being 'scientific', in a respect. It was so...unique in its appearance, could've even been called abstract art considering, and yet it worked in exactly the same function as a computer did only it could run all the necessary requirements for every parameter needed throughout Nightvale, and yet Carlos spoke about how he'd only got the wi-fi to work recently. Dean scoffed at this and sat to use the computer, soon becoming engrossed in his search for information on the web, when it occurred to him after a while that "Nightvale", in all respects, did not actually exist to the "outside" world. This minor revelation of his was something that had been brewing in the back of his mind for a while since coming here, what with the whole "outsider" gig and the just plain weird residents in general, this was confirmation that he was in an entirely isolated part of the world, covered in sand and sunlight and completely obscured from existence by everything that didn't live and die there. A sense of foreboding fell over him as he began to wonder that if the fact that he was in a place where he didn't exist to anyone, neither did Sammy, and if Sammy wasn't here and he was, then he didn't exist to Sammy either. therefore, the question of time begged to be answered for him, as he noticed the fluctuations and no clocks or explicit time statements; part of him wondered however whether he was just going insane in all reality. Hell, he might start talking to flowers soon.

Sam woke up, then he slept then he woke up then he was screaming in the corner crouched over Dean's corpse. He had dug his nails into Dean's stomach, decorated the room with his entrails, ripping and clawing at his shirt and clothing, not giving two shits about revealing and destroying his body. Sure, Dean was going to Hell anyway, the fuck did it matter, he deserved a bloody fucked up send off if anything. Too mundane and Sam would've had to go sell his soul just to bring him back and watch him suffer again. He cried his eyes out, vomit lurching from his stomach and he scrambled to pull himself from the body. He opened his eyes again after insistently wiping them to get the stinging out, legs splayed out on the floor in the darkness, fancied it be chiaroscuro in lighting, and tilted his head up to the ceiling, opening his eyes to find absolutely fucking nothing.

Then he was standing and he could feel the wings on his back ripping through his skin, bleeding and dripping and ripping to the point that he thought all his skin would be ripped form his muscle and he'd be left a broken angel with some fucker's skin as a mask on. He could feel the feather light touches of the feathers against his skin, they tickled his shoulders and back, the feelings fleeting and almost like all those girls he slept with to hide his pain and all that shit from-hell who the fuck even cared anyway, only Dean did and he'd died more times than he could count.

He walked away and came back and paced the area, he kept killing and hurting and fucking over and over and over again and soon he was a mess on the floor, giggling to himself about some stupid fucking pun to do with Metallica that Dean had told him, but he didn't care now, he didn't give a fucking shit now, he cared so goddamn much he fucked him and then set his body on fire- then he didn't and he didn't. And soon enough the only thing that was actually audible to him was the slow clapping coming from, somewhere he guessed, impossible to tell with the noise ricocheting off the walls in so many fucking directions to the point where his head was beginning to hurt, and he flipped himself over and clumsily tried to move himself across the floor, to which a face leaned down to meet his.

He looked up and smiled up at him too, both smiling fucking idiots who didn't have a fucking care in the world anymore HA. Sam used his fingers and ripped and clawed at his face, trying to widen his smile, pulling at the skin and stretching it, his eyes being pulled and mishappen due to the strain, his teeth gnawing at thick skin inside his mouth, biting into it and squelching it, ripping it in two. His smile was becoming more unsightly as the minutes went on, both of them laughing like crazy, Kevin finally taking Sam's face into his hands, holding it, looking at him like he meant the fucking world and the blood-lust and tension between them was something neither of them could ignore.

He closed his eyes briefly in wakening of his betrayal to Dean, his lifetime, he had become the monster again. He had done it again and somehow he was happy to go to Hell if he got to be fucked over by Kevin, got to fuck everyone over and act like he wanted. He opened his eyes, and the world shifted, he closed them and the world shifted again once he opened them. He closed them, and he didn't open them again.


End file.
